I Know Places
by Sonny13
Summary: "Call me the devil's advocate, but to me it was obvious all humans were inherently evil." Juliet is a two hundred year old vampire on a diet, just trying to make it through high school. Again. Her priorities change when she meets Stiles, the one human she just can't seem to hate no matter how hard she tries. Stiles/OC
1. Bad Intentions

**A/N: So I've been working on a new Stiles/OC, and I've finally decided to start posting it. It's a 'vampire moves to Beacon Hills' story, but I think I've put my own twist on it. Updates not too regular but I pretty much have the first season completely finished, so we'll see. Enjoy**

* * *

_I thought I was the victim, I played it well_

_sifting through the records, trying to find myself_

_I tried to be salvation, tried to make it change_

_Ooh, but I've come too far to look the other way_

Bad Intentions – Digital Daggers

* * *

I wasn't a good person.

Or maybe I was, at least, when I was human. I suppose it depended on your thoughts about whether or not people could be born evil. Call me the devil's advocate, but to me it was obvious all humans were inherently evil. Being turned into a vampire only enhanced the darkness within me.

As a human I didn't have an outlet for my urges. As a vampire I did, and boy did I embrace it. For a very long time I was the definition of evil. I tortured and attacked and killed, and I _loved_ it. If I'm being honest, I still do.

Then I met Myra.

I'd always kept an eye on my bloodline, making sure they were safe and had enough money to live comfortably. I'd never actually interacted with any of them until her. She was standing on the beach when we spoke for the first time, knee deep in water as the sun began to set, a joint between her lips. I still don't know what it was that made me approach her, maybe it was because I saw what her addiction was doing to her son. Maybe I was just lonely.

We got close, closer than I'd ever gotten with a human before. Eventually she figured it out, what I was. _Who_ I was. She was my flesh and blood, and when she begged me to stop killing, begged me from her death bed, well something in me cracked.

There's a switch you can flick as a vampire, one that shuts off your humanity, so you can live a guilt-free lifestyle. I'd been unfeeling for so long, that when she came along and flicked the switch back, it was like a physical blow to the chest. I cried for the first time in a hundred years on the night that she died, and I knew I had to fulfil her dying wish and become somebody she'd have been proud of.

So I packed up everything, made sure her son was with a good family, one that would take care of him. I figured my best bet was to keep a low profile, so I went from town to town, enrolling myself in high schools and staying only a few short years, leaving before the citizens figured out I wasn't aging.

That's how I found myself in Beacon Hills.

If I'd known the trouble I'd go through in that Godforsaken town, maybe I wouldn't have moved there. But then again, if I hadn't moved there, I wouldn't have met _him_.

And he was worth it. He would always be worth it. No matter what.


	2. The Sharpest Lives

_There's a place in the dark where the animals go_

_You can take off your skin in the cannibal glow_

_Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands_

_Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, Romeo_

The Sharpest Lives – My Chemical Romance

* * *

The moon was nearly full.

In a few days it would be completely full, and I'd no doubt have to deal with werewolves running around town. I could smell the scent of an alpha sticking to the trees in the forest, and I knew it would have had to have been there only hours, if not minutes before me. I sighed tiredly, pulling out a cigarette and slipping it between my lips, cupping my hand around the end as I lit it up. I tucked the little blue lighter into my pocket, walking towards where I'd heard the sounds of a search party making their way through the forest, their dog's barks echoing off the trees. It'd be easy enough to tail them until they hopefully found the murderer of the young woman, or at least I stumbled across him myself. I trudged through the dirt, holding my bogie in one hand, my other one trailing across the rough bark of the trees I was striding passed.

I paused, cocking my head as I listened to the sound of heavy footsteps stomping towards me, young sounding voices ringing out through the woods, chattering as they moved through the trees. They sounded innocent enough, and in the blink of an eye I was standing behind them. I purposefully stepped on a large stick, smirking with satisfaction as it snapped under my weight loudly. The two teenage boys gasped, spinning around, hands held to their chests.

It was hard for them to see me in the darkness, my black clothes blending into the shadows. Their eyes followed the glowing end of my cigarette as I took a drag, and I assessed them carefully. One was ethnic, with large, innocent puppy-dog eyes and floppy dark hair. The other had a buzz cut and an attractive splattering of freckles across his face. Both of their hearts were pounding with fear, and I gave a smirk I knew they could barely make out, deciding to play with them while I waited for some new development to occur. "What are two boys like you doing out in the woods on a night like this?" I asked lightly, leaning my weight against a tree and watching as they scrambled for a believable lie.

"Uh-nothing," the freckle-covered one stuttered unconvincingly. "Just out for a stroll. Doing some brotherly bonding. What-what are _you_ doing out in the woods, huh?" he turned the conversation around on me, and a smirk flickered on my lips in response.

I sucked in another lung full of chemicals, watching them carefully for their reactions as I spoke. "Hunting." The smoke slid out of my mouth with my word, lighting up from the silvery moonlight drifting through the trees.

The boy with the puppy-dog eyes sucked in a breath, then coughed loudly, pulling out an inhaler and taking a puff. The one with the buzz-cut didn't seem as affected, merely crossing his arms and narrowing his dark eyes at me suspiciously. I tilted my head at him, blinking innocently, though I doubted he could tell through the darkness. Though he put on a calm front, his heart was beating wildly in his chest. A gust of wind brushed past their heads and hit me full on, enveloping me in their scent. One of them smelled like animal, they obviously either owned a lot of pets or worked closely with them. The other's scent was intoxicating, mint and chocolate, mixed with a musky aftershave. My gums tingled and my eyes burned as I, with much difficulty, shoved down the instinct to snap the animal boy's back and sink my teeth into his friend's neck. "Hunting what?" mint-and-chocolate asked suspiciously when it was obvious I wasn't going to elaborate.

I smirked tauntingly, one eyebrow sliding up my brow. "Stay safe, boys," I told them flippantly, turning on my heel and slowly blending back into the shadows. "Who knows what's out there? Wouldn't want to run into the big bad wolf."

I grinned at my private joke, thinking about the wild, probably unrestrained alpha running through the woods. "Wait-" one of them called from behind me, but I didn't bother to turn around, simply continuing to walk further into the trees, mind already on my next meal.

I wandered towards the sounds of the search party, wondering how much of a bad idea it would be to pick off one of the deputies. I immediately scolded myself for thinking like that. I couldn't afford to slip up – I'd been doing so well.

I kept out of the light of the officer's torches, dropping what was left of my cigarette onto a wet patch on the ground. Rain filtered through the canopy above me, and soon my long, dark hair was sticking to the leather of my jacket, my bangs sticking to the sides of my face. I brushed it away from my ear, cocking my head as I concentrated on what the police were saying. Most were silent, diligently searching for the other half of the missing woman. Some were muttering between themselves about what they'd found, one of which being one of the two boys from before. I listened as he was chastised by the man who was obviously his relative, and as they walked further away from where I was standing, I wondered what'd happened to the other boy.

My train of thought stopped immediately as I heard a growl from somewhere deep in the trees to my left. I spun around, fangs dropping instinctively as I let out a warning hiss. I wasn't planning to get into a fight with a werewolf. After all, one bite and I was dust.

I knew I might as well properly assess the threat. And if I was going to live comfortably in this town for the foreseeable future, that threat would probably have to be eliminated. Another growl vibrated through the trees surrounding me, and I heard the distant rumble of a stampede. I groaned in agitation, leaping in the air and grasping a low-hanging branch, pulling myself up with ease and making myself comfortable, one leg swinging in the air as I watched the deer sprint through the trees, desperate to get away from the monster in the shadows. Sensing me, they steered clear of the tree I'd pulled myself onto, leaving several feet on either side. My alert eyes watched the shadows, my perfect eyesight searching for any hint of the alpha.

He stayed away, or at least, out of my sight. Once the stampede was gone I dropped from the tree, landing on my converse-clad feet silently. I tilted my head up, sniffing the air cautiously. A familiar dead, rotten smell met my nose, along with the stench of blood. Hunger surged through me and for the second time that night I shoved it down, focusing on finding the body. From there, I'd hopefully have a scent with which I could track the killer, and then I'd be able to finally have dinner.

It wasn't like I couldn't survive without from-the-source blood. Blood bags did just fine, but they didn't give me the same rush, the same mind blowing feeling of drinking from a human. It was a way to relax, and I knew from now on I could only ever do it from killers, from terrible people who deserved it. Ever since Macy...

A twig snapped to my right and I slid behind a tree, out of sight of the boy stumbling through the forest. It was the animal boy from earlier in the night. I watched as he clicked his mobile phone on, using the glow from the screen to illuminate the ground in front of him, frantically searching for something. I stayed hidden, my eyes darting to the dead body – the source of the scent I'd been following.

I sniffed in again, but found only the stench of blood and rotting flesh, mixed with faint traces of werewolf. I deflated. Of course the alpha was behind this. I huffed silently, crossing my arms and beginning to leave when I was stopped by the sound of paws hitting the moist earth. I froze, stopping my breathing completely. My natural instincts screamed to run, but I ignored them, glanced to the boy worriedly. This innocent kid was about to be killed by an alpha, or worse, turned. The new me couldn't just let it happen while she sat idly by, she had to do _something_. I exhaled sharply, hands clenching into fists, prepared to fight. I didn't know what shape this alpha would take. Would they be normal? A half-turned man-wolf with canines and facial hair? Or would it be a real wolf? Sleek and slender, smaller but just as deadly. Or would it be something else entirely?

I spun around as the boy cried out, slipping from my defensive position. While I'd been distracted by the alpha I'd failed to notice him slipping back in shock at finding the body, all but throwing himself down a steep hill. I rolled my eyes, dashing to the top of the hill and staring down at him, trying to make sure he was okay _and_ keep an eye out for the alpha. I watched as the boy panted for breath, clamouring to his feet and brushing leaves off his hoodie.

Yet another threatening growl sounded, this one louder than any other I'd heard that night. I'd been distracted, I hadn't noticed it until it was too late. I jumped down the hill, sliding across the ground and shoving myself at the giant beast. Looks like we were going for option three, then.

I tackled it, but not in time to stop it from sinking it's teeth into the poor boy's side. I frowned but knew I had to focus on the fight at hand. Luckily I didn't have to worry about the kid, he scrambled to his feet, sprinting in the other direction as fast as he could. I wrapped my arm around the werewolf's throat, but couldn't get the strong enough grip that I needed to snap it's pathetic neck. Nonetheless I squeezed, and it reared it's head up towards the nearly-full moon, letting out a piercing howl that made my sensitive ears ring. With one powerful shake it threw me off of it, sending me slamming into a nearby tree. I sprang up from the ground, my eyes a bloody red as I let out a feral snarl.

It charged at me, and we met with a loud bang, smashing together. It may have been stronger, but I was definitely faster, and I darted out of it's reach before it could wrap it's monster jaws around any part of me. It's paw scraped my thigh, ripping right through my dirty old jeans and slicing the skin underneath. I pressed my lips together to swallow a cry and shoved my other, un-injured leg out as hard as I could. It connected with what I assumed were the beast's ribs, and I heard a satisfying crunch that made me grin with pleasure. It whimpered and scrambled back. I pressed a hand to my bloody thigh and decided, now that the boy was out of harm's way, that I had tempted fate enough for one night. Biting my tongue through the pain I turned and got the hell out of there, running as fast as my injured leg would carry me, all the way home.

* * *

I tried not to show I was limping as I made my way through the crowd of students heading towards the front doors of their school. My tattered converse slapped against the pavement in an uneven beat, making it obvious something was wrong. I absent-mindedly patted the swollen part of my leg, cursing the mutt that did it to me. Scratches from werewolves took longer to heal than anything else, so I was stuck with the ache running through my leg every time I stepped on it.

People stared as I walked, but that was usual, so I didn't pay much attention. I adjusted the bag thrown over my shoulder and pushed passed a freshman walking too slow for my taste. I sucked in a breath, wincing as I caught the scent of humans, trying not to think about how it would be all too easy to let my fangs slide free and munch on their delicate little necks.

I grumbled a profanity under my breath, digging in the pocket of my jeans to pull out a cigarette, lifting it to my lips and lighting it in one smooth movement as I walked through the front doors. I'd just turned the first corner when a soft warm body slammed into me. "Oh-sorry," a voice began to say as he looked up. I tilted my head, staring at him blatantly as I recognised him: he was the mint-and-chocolate boy from last night. I couldn't tell right away if he recognised me, because his eyes were immediately drawn to the cigarette between my teeth. "You can't smoke that in here."

I took another puff, the corner of my lips twitched up into a smirk. "Watch me."

"Hey," he said, recognition lighting up in his honey-brown eyes as he gestured wildly while he spoke. "You're that girl. The one from last night, in the woods."

I narrowed my eyes, flicking the ash from my stick and watching him carefully. "What of it?" I asked nonchalantly, listening to his heartbeat as it elevated slightly. He was clearly surprised by my blunt question, blinking at me uncomprehendingly. I stared at him, once again unwilling to elaborate.

"Well-well you go to school here," he said, stumbling over his words as he stared back at me.

I frowned, wondering if he had a disability or was just stupid. "Obviously."

He scowled, looking like he was cursing at himself in his head. "I meant: I haven't seen you around before. Are you new?"

"Yes," I responded blankly, lifting the cigarette to my lips to take another puff.

"Um, where did you move from?"

I stuck with the story I'd had woven for as long as I'd been jumping between schools and colleges. "I'm from New York," I said, shrugging. That's what it said on my falsified records, at least.

"Ah, the empire state!" he said with an awkward grin. "The big apple!" I stared at him with an impassive expression, not even allowing my lips to twitch for a second. "Right," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at where his friend from the other night was pulling books out of his locker; the one who was bitten.

Immediately I knew this was another aspect of the threat I had to figure out, and I perked up, slipping a bright but fake smile on my face. "Who's your friend?" I asked lightly, fluttering my eyelashes at the dumbstruck boy. He looked floored by the sudden change in my demeanour, but went with it like a champ, moving over to introduce me to the floppy-haired boy.

"Scott," he called, making the dazed looking boy park up, turning to face us expectantly. "This is the girl from the woods last night," he told his friend, gesturing to me.

"Scott McCall," he told me, holding out a hand to shake.

He didn't look like he was dying, which meant he was probably going through the change. I had to know for sure, so I stepped forwards, wrapping my arms around the shocked boy and letting my face bury in his neck. I discretely took a sniff, trying not to recoil at the scent of wet dog that penetrated my nostrils. I flinched back, a frown sliding over my face. Definitely a dog.

"And I'm Stiles Stilinski," the over-eager one said, taking my hug of Scott as an invitation to hug me. He pressed up against me, as he was a few inches taller his chin bumped the bridge of my nose. I stopped breathing, now wouldn't be an ideal time to get a face full of his intoxicating scent. I didn't return the hug either, letting the happy mask drop to reveal my real scowling face, waiting for an awkwardly long amount of time for him to let me go. "Wow, you're cold," he mumbled before he stepped back, face red and blotchy as he scratched the back of his head embarrassedly. "Um, and you are?"

I realised I hadn't introduced myself and bit my lip, mind flickering to my most recent alias. "Juliet Cooper," I told them, blinking up at the two boys expressionlessly.

If there was one thing we vampires were good at, it was lying. Especially with no heartbeat to give us away.

Above our heads the bell rang, making Scott cringe. I knew it was his new, extra-sensitive hearing capabilities making him wince, and I had a flash of empathy for him as I remembered when I'd first turned and how difficult it was to handle everything. Then logic dripped back over me and I once again felt uncaring. "Well, we should get going," Scott said stiltedly, pointing at the wall over his shoulder.

"Okay," I replied blankly, not wanting to waste any more of my time chatting with two young delinquent boys. I strode passed them, ignoring the way Stiles flinched when my cold arm brushed his warm one. I opened my bag, waling down the middle of the hall and not bothering to watch where I was going as I dug out my schedule and the accompanied map. I had English first, which just happened to be my favourite subject. I let a small smile slip onto my lips, nodding to myself and preparing for the day ahead.

After English was French, which I didn't mind. I'd lived in Paris for a few years. I wasn't an expert at the language, like I was in Italian, Spanish and Japanese, but I didn't mind trying new things. I wandered in through to the back, barely glancing at the elderly woman standing by the board. I took a seat on the far left, dropping my bag to the ground and tapping my fingers against the wooden desktop in boredom.

"Hi," a quiet, shy voice said from my left, and I rolled my head towards the young girl, taking in her dark hair and pretty features.

"Yes?" I asked bluntly, wondering if there was something she needed.

She looked taken aback, unsure how to answer me. She looked like she was about to tell me it didn't matter, backing down until a sudden determinedness came into her eyes and she tilted her chin up slightly. Something deep within me was impressed, but I squashed it, not in the mood for any sort of sentimentality. "I'm Allison. I heard from somebody that it's your first day too."

I raised an eyebrow, deciding humouring her was my best bet at getting out of this as quickly as possible. "That's correct."

"Where did you move from?" she asked, a polite smile on her red lips.

"New York," I answered robotically, moving to pull a book and pen from my bag so I looked busy.

"Oh I love it there," she sighed wistfully, and if I were anyone else I'd ask about it. But I was me, and I didn't care. Thankfully the aging teacher called the class to attention before she could make anymore small talk. It wasn't special, or particularly rememberable, but that was the first time I met Allison Argent.

* * *

I cracked open my old copy of my favourite book, _Alice in Wonderland,_ and glanced up at the sun. looking up at it sent a searing pain through my head, and my gaze immediately sought out the thick, heavy ring around my middle finger, the blue stone glittering prettily in the sun's rays. Footsteps crunching through the leaves from behind me made me pause, peering around the tree I was leaned against.

I liked the forests here. They weren't so thick you could barely walk, but they weren't so thin it was basically a field with a few trees. So when I decided I wanted some down time, some time to relax without all the stress and scents surrounding my new peers, this was the first place that came to mind. The small house I was living in over in the suburbs was nice and quaint, but it was always so dark, no matter how many windows I opened or lights I flicked on.

"What are you doing here?" a voice asked and I looked up sharply, not expecting a man to be standing above me. I cursed inwardly, I shouldn't let myself keep getting distracted. I didn't want him to think he intimidated me in any way, so I stayed where I was, lounged about at the base of a large tree. I took a breath in, keeping my face carefully schooled when I caught his wolf-y scent.

Werewolf.

I tipped my lips up into a small, mocking smile. "I'm reading a book."

He glared down at me with a pair of brilliant blue eyes. "Why are you in Beacon Hills?" he restated his question, arms crossed, body language screaming he was irritated and uncomfortable.

"Why are _you_?" I countered pleasantly, blinking up at him with my own set of dazzling emerald greens, putting on a superficial act, hoping it would make him underestimate me. When he didn't answer I sighed, putting aside my book and standing to my feet in one smooth motion. "How about, instead of question each other's motives for living here, we simply get straight to the elephant in the room." His face didn't so much as twitch, and I leaned back against the tree trunk casually. "Are you the alpha?"

"No," he answered immediately, his heart keeping a steady beat.

"Prove it," I replied tensely, narrowing my eyes at him. "You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it." He exhaled sharply, clearly aggravated. I stared at him, refusing to back down. "Show me those pretty eyes of yours."

He scowled deeply, but complied, obviously deciding it was easier to humour me. His eyes were suddenly glowing a bright, shimmering blue. Interesting.

I nodded, relaxing my stance to show him I wasn't necessarily a threat. "Juliet Cooper," I said, not holding out my hand to shake, nor giving him my real name.

"Derek Hale." My eyebrows raised; a _Hale_? Of course I'd heard of the Hale pack; who in the supernatural community hadn't? Apart from the rise of my brow, I kept my face expressionless.

"So I suppose you're one of his betas then?" I assumed, cocking my head and watching him carefully.

"No," he replied, eyes glancing around shiftily like he expected my entourage of ninjas to show up out of nowhere and attack him. "I don't know who he is. But I need to find out."

"You knew the dead girl?" I asked tightly, immediately regretting asking. Emotions weren't my forte even in the slightest. He didn't respond verbally, instead merely nodding stoically. "Well, looks like we're on the same team. I don't want some psychopathic alpha on a power trip ruining my chance of a good solid few years here before I have to move on. Hunters catch wind of animal attacks, there're only so many species of supernatural they're going to take a run at. And you and me, buddy? We're on the top of their list."

"Will you be causing any 'animal attacks' of your own?" he asked tightly, levelling me with a hard gaze.

I smiled bitterly before pursing my lips to cover it. "Not to worry," I told him confidently. "I drink the stuff on ice." I considered what I'd said, deciding that if we were going to have some kind of truce, I should at least be a little bit honest. "Most of the time." I levelled my own serious gaze at him, irritated that it didn't make his heart rate spike with fear like it did for humans. "What about you?" I asked, watching him carefully. "Come full moon am I gonna have to worry about you chomping on some innocent kid's liver. Or worse, mine? If you could take me, that is, which isn't likely."

His eyes narrowed minutely, but otherwise he didn't rise to the bait I'd set. "I have full control." His crossed arms tightened as he considered his next words. "Unfortunately so does the alpha."

"Which will make him harder to catch," I added with a nod.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but before he had the chance the sound of young voices floated towards our location. We both froze, heads tilted towards the newcomers. I took a deep breath in, smirking reflexively when I smelled mint and chocolate. This kid was everywhere.

Without verbally agreeing on anything we had both disappeared from our places a good acre away, me reappearing closer to the boys a moment or two before him. I couldn't help the self satisfied smirk that materialised on my lips as he scowled. We were silent, watching the two boys as Stiles joked about Scott being a werewolf. I found the irony of their conversation hilarious, but bit my lip to hide my smile. After a moment he noticed us standing a few yards away, both silently waiting for them to realise we were there. He jumped, heart racing in his chest. I tilted my head, staring at the pair thoughtfully.

"What are you doing here? Huh?" Hale asked tensely, striding forwards until he was mere feet away from them. I followed behind at a more leisurely pace, my arms crossed as I watched the interaction carefully. Stiles glanced up at me from under his lashes, immediately shooting his gaze away when he saw me already looking. "This is private property."

"Sorry, guys, we didn't know," Stiles said, awkwardly adjusting his jacket.

"Yeah, we were just looking for something but, uh, forget it," Scott added, staring at Derek. Surprisingly, the wolf reached into his pocket, pulling out a small object and throwing it to Scott gently, the boy snatching it from the air with ease. We all glanced down at the inhaler now held in his grasp, until Derek suddenly turned around, shoving his hands in his pockets and nodding at me discretely. I hesitated, flicking my eyes between the two confused boys in front of me. Stiles' heart picked up again, and for fun I flashed him a smirk. Something must have come across in my eyes, because they both averted their gaze uncomfortably. Content, I spun on my heel, converse sinking into the mud as I turned to follow Derek Hale back to the tree we'd previously been standing by.

"You could've cut the tension with a knife," I muttered once we were out of sight, pulling out a cigarette and my lighter from my pocket, shoving the stick between my lips and lighting it before tucking the lighter back into the safety of my pocket, I'd had that old thing for nearly a decade, it had sort of grown on me.

I thought back to my day at school, catching a whiff of the boy's new scent. "You know about him?"

"The alpha's new beta, the kid we just saw?" he asked rhetorically, and I clicked my tongue in response, nodding slightly. "You go to school with him, right?"

"Regrettably," I responded dully, raising a single eyebrow to appear more bored than I felt. It was important this werewolf perceived me in a specific way, a more intimidating way. "I'll keep an eye on him," I assured him with a huff, reaching up to brush my jet black hair out of my eyes. "But if anything comes up he's _your _problem to deal with."

"If you need to find me, I live in the burnt down house two miles North of here."

"Okay," I responded, already feeling sort of drained. I could only handle so much human contact a day before it started to get to me. "If you need _me_, I live at thirteen Spring road on the west side of town."

I didn't mind giving my address out to people, it wasn't like they could hurt me anyway. I was too old for such a young werewolf to be able to do anything damaging to me, so I sent him one final, sardonic smile before scooping up my book and disappearing through the trees.

* * *

I pushed my way through the sea of sweaty high school students, a red cup full of some kind of shitty watered down beer in my hand. "Hey baby," some drunk kid moaned, pressing into my side. I pushed my hand against his chest, giving him one hard shove to the side, sending him stumbling back into the crowd. I wiped my hand on my jeans in disgust, slipping through a gap in the crowd and moving to the corner of the room.

I had no idea why I'd thought this would be a good idea. Me and a hundred sweaty teens stuffed into a house? It was practically an all-you-can-eat buffet. I took another sip of the disgusting beer, grimacing in distaste as it slid over my tongue. I leaned to my right, discretely tipping the contents of it into a pot plant and carelessly throwing the empty red cup over my shoulder.

I felt eyes on me, and not in a creepy, leery type of way. I glanced to my left, meeting eyes with Stiles Stilinski. He was staring at my leather-clad form with wide eyes. He looked torn between awe and terror. I raised an eyebrow challengingly, wondering if he was going to approach me. He didn't, turning on his heel and marching around the corner and out of sight. My lips twitched up proudly and I turned back to the sea of writhing teenagers.

My eyes were scanning the occupants of the party, searching for something interesting, anything to justify me coming here. I didn't even know why I was there. Part of me hated it; it was loud and sweaty and pathetic. And part of me loved because it was loud and sweaty and pathetic. As usual, I was torn.

Deciding I'd had enough for one night, I turned to leave, stopping short when my eyes slid over a dancing Scott and Allison. I pursed my lips, listening to the sound of his heart beating wildly in his chest. This could be bad, if he snapped and lost control, there was no telling what kind of damage he could inflict. All it would take is the right person asking the right questions and we were all potentially done for. He glanced up at the full moon, grimacing and clenching his hands into fists.

I huffed, rolling my neck and pushing myself off the wall. Looked like I was going to have to clean up yet another mess tonight. He mumbled a terrible excuse to Allison, who looked confused and worried, then pushed his way through the crowd. With a sigh I followed him, shoving my way past the drunk, idiotic teens. By the time I'd caught up to him, he was already in his car and driving away. I shrugged to myself, at least the immediate danger was gone, he'd probably go home and lock himself in his room or something. Either way, there was no way I was following him home to find out, so I turned on my heel, heading in the opposite direction of the party, down the street leading to the woods. As I left I overheard Hale offering to give Allison a ride home. I didn't trust the wolf even slightly, but I doubted he'd hurt her; even if he did, it wasn't my problem.

Nothing made me feel better than a nightly stroll, so I made my way through the suburbs until I hit the forest, deciding to walk through it on my way home. I pulled another cigarette from my pocket, lighting it easily and making my way through the trees.

I was about half way home when I caught a familiar scent, stopping dead. "Derek?" I asked, tilting my head in his direction as he stepped out from behind a tree. He leaned against the trunk, crossing his arms and sending me an apathetic look. I took a drag from my stick, watching him carefully. "Giving the girl a ride home. Risky move."

"Well, I needed to draw Scott out somehow," he shrugged back, and I furrowed my brow. I opened my mouth to retort but paused when I heard the sound of someone running through the forest.

"Speak of the devil," I smirked as I listened to his racing heart and gasping breaths, the boy racing towards us.

"Where is she?" he growled as he appeared between a gap in the trees, looking around wildly, having trouble spotting us as we blended in to the shadows.

"She's safe," Derek told him stonily. "From you."

He jumped out of the darkness, throwing himself at the teen wolf. I sighed exasperatedly, sucking in another lungful of chemicals and watching them with mild interest. Derek was no doubt stronger and smarter, but there was something infinitely dangerous about a new, out of control werewolf on the full moon.

They rolled across the ground, wrestling each other, trying to land a hit. Either way, I'd have to put my money on Derek, and I smirked as I saw the older wolf pin the younger one down.

"What did you do with her?" Scott asked, bordering on hysteria.

Before he could retort, the sound of hurried footsteps met my ears, and both Derek and I snapped our heads up.

Hunters.

"Sh, quiet," Derek hissed. I quickly crumbled the cigarette in my hand, the lightened end searing my skin, leaving burns that disappeared in moments. I dropped it to the ground, muscles coiling as I prepared to defend myself. The footsteps raced towards us, and I scowled, tossing up my options. I could run. I was a thousand times faster than the human hunters, it wouldn't be hard to loose them in the darkness, however, something in me told me leaving the two wolves to die was a bad idea. I couldn't afford to start off here on the local werewolf population's bad side. "Too late. They're already here. Run."

They took off in opposite directions, and I growled but refused to allow my true face to show. The best course of action was to let them assume I was a wolf, I didn't want to make them think anything else, least of all _vampire._

I raced off to the left, sprinting around so I came up behind the hunters as they began to let arrows fire, ones that exploded upon contact with trees. I watched as Scott got shot and itched to make them pay. I knew though, that I couldn't kill them. In my experience, killing hunters only made the remaining ones more likely to come after you. I couldn't kill them all and I couldn't run forever. So with that in mind I picked off one of the smaller ones at the back of the group, covering his mouth with my hand and wrenching his weapon from him, tossing it as far as I could into the darkness. I snatched the back of his jacket, hooking it onto a low hanging branch and letting him hang there. He yelled out for help, and one of the hunters turned his attention from Scott to me. It was probably for the best; I had a much better chance at surviving this.

"Take him," the leader said as one of his goons turned to me. I groaned, moving forwards with large strides until I reached him, pulling my fist back and slamming my knuckles into his nose before he could do anything to stop me. He cried out as the bone shattered under my fist, blood pouring from his face as he crumpled to the muddy ground.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Scott scramble to his feet and take off into the darkness. Knowing he was out of immediate danger, I didn't stick around to play with the hunters, sprinting after the wolves too fast for human eyes to see.

They ran through the trees, dodging branches and leaping over logs. I had to slow my strides to keep pace with them, running at a jog so I stayed just behind them, continuously checking over my shoulder for any sign of the hunters.

Finally, after a long few minutes Scott came to a stop, collapsing against a tree trunk and gasping for breath. "Who are they?" he asked. He must have noticed me before during the fight, because he didn't look too surprised to see me standing behind Derek.

"Hunters," the older werewolf told him sombrely. "Their kind have been hunting us for centuries."

"_Us_?" Scott yelled, outraged as he dragged himself to his feet, eyes shifting between us both. "You mean you! You did this to me!"

I wanted to tell him that Hale wasn't an alpha, so it would be impossible for him to have turned him, but I decided to keep my mouth shut. "Is it really so bad Scott? That you can see better? Hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope? You've been given something that most people would kill for. The bite is a gift."

"I don't want it."

There was a pregnant pause. "You will. And you're going to need me if you want to learn how to control it." He leaned closer to the terrified boy, pressing his hand to the bark above his head. "So you and me, Scott? We're brothers now."

He apparently decided that was enough, stepping back and turning away, slowly heading back into the forest. Scott swallowed and looked up at me where I stood relaxed against a fallen tree. "Does that make you my sister?" he asked bitterly, closing his eyes while I pretended I couldn't see them watering.

My lips twitched up into a humoured smirk. I liked to keep a low profile when there were hunters involved, so the last thing I needed was some newbie werewolf knowing my dirty little secrets. For now, I'd let him believe whatever he wanted, I wasn't going to be revealing anything any time soon. "See you at school, Scott," I told him with a false smile that melted off my face the second my back was turned. I was gone before he'd realised I'd moved.

* * *

I wandered into my house, flicking the light on as I passed the switch. The small living room to my small, two bedroom house lit up with a warm glow, revealing my old red couches and walls covered with books. I threw my keys on the table in front of the television, toeing off my shoes and kicking them back beside the doorway. I didn't bother locking my door, letting it swing shut and moving through the lounge and into the decent sized kitchen. I pulled open the door to the fridge, fingering the packets of blood sitting on the top shelf. I decided on some A-positive, pulling it out and shoving it into the microwave.

I detested technology. It was stupid and confusing and unnecessarily difficult to use. I missed the days of warm fires, horse and carriages, and hand-written letters. There were some inventions I tolerated, however. Such as microwaves, and showers. They all came in handy, made life a little bit easier.

The microwave beeped, and I pulled out my packet of blood, ripping the top off and dropping it in my bin as I passed, settling down on the couch and taking a deep sip of my dinner. I sighed in bliss as the warm blood ran down my burning throat, putting out the fire and making a sense of calm drip over me. I'd tried pretty much every drug there was, very few worked on vampires. Since we were technically dead, our bodies didn't process the chemicals the same way, they didn't give us the same high.

_Blood_, however, that gave us a high no drug would ever give a human.

Our bodies came alive, drinking it was like breaking the surface of the water and taking a breath of pure, fresh air. All my senses became instantly alert, everything became brighter, louder, sharper, better. My body buzzed with energy, the good kind, the kind that I knew would allow me to pick up a truck. It, at the same time, relaxed me, making all my worries disappear.

And that was just the stuff in the bags. That didn't even come close to how it felt straight from the vein.

I missed it, I craved it so much it hurt. But I had a promise to keep, so instead of leaving the house to stalk some pathetic little human, or better yet-that irresistible smelling Stiles boy, I discarded the empty packet, turning on the radio and curling up into a ball on my couch, trying to enjoy what high I had left.


	3. Reflections

_Pinning paper wings on problems_

_Hoping that they'll fly away_

_Turn our backs, ignore the truth_

_If they can't support the weight_

Reflections – We Are The In Crowd

* * *

The next morning I honestly didn't feel very well. It wasn't possible for vampires to get sick, so I shrugged it off, lighting up a cigarette and walking to school, bag slung over my shoulder. By the time I got to school I was already late, but I couldn't find it in me to care. I went about my day like it was any other, going to class, pretending to take notes and pretending to listen as the teachers spoke. By the time the day was over, I felt even worse than when I woke up. Throughout the day I'd managed to pin it on the worry about the hunters in town. It seemed like I would never be free of them.

Of course it had occurred to me that I could leave. I really could just pack my bag, sell my house and leave. But I was trying to turn over a new leaf, trying to become a better person. I knew I had to do everything in my power to become the person Macy wanted me to be, even if that meant going against my instincts – _especially _if it meant that.

So, after having had a long and emotionally taxing day as I tossed up my options, I couldn't wait to get home, have a bath and read a book. Unfortunately I only go so far as passing the art room before I was stopped by a familiar buzz-cut donned boy. He stepped out in front of me, wearing his lacrosse gear with a determined frown on his face that honestly made him look like a grumpy kitten.

"Yes?" I asked tiredly, raising an eyebrow as I listened to his heart thud like it was trying to break free of his chest. When he didn't say anything I rolled my eyes, hitching my bag higher up on my shoulder. "Let me guess: Scott told you that he saw me in the woods with Hale last night and since you both need answers you figured I was the slightly less intimidating one to approach." His heart stuttered at my words and his adams apple bobbed as he stared at me. I flicked a lock of hair out of my face, pinning him with my entrancing green eyes. "But there's one thing you should know before you open your mouth," I warned, enjoying the way the blood ran from his face as I stepped closer. "I'm _much_ more dangerous than Derek Hale."

He didn't say a thing, blinking up at me. I was surprised by his eyes. I hadn't noticed before, his eyes looked like he smelt; intoxicating.

I covered up my brief falter with a smirk, stepping around him and turning down a hallway, struggling to keep a human pace. I eventually found the door, shoving it open and stepping out into the sun. I immediately pulled a cigarettes out of my bag, lighting it up shoving past some guy in a jersey. I hopped down the steps, striding down the path, meaning to head home. I slid around a form, pausing as I caught a whiff of a familiar scent. Scott.

I glanced at him over my shoulder as I walked, brow furrowing as I noticed he was stock still, staring at something in the parking lot. I followed his line of sight until I was met with a most unpleasant sight.

Hunter.

He was staring at Scott, not playing the least bit of attention to me. I knew it was him; the one from last night. My hands clenched into fists but I focused on walking neutrally, not letting anyone notice anything was off. The older man was smiling at the boy, and not in a menacing way either. I peered past him, blinking in surprise as I saw Allison in the car behind him. They were related. That or she really had a thing for older guys. I took another drag of smoke, watching him from the corner of my eyes until I turned the corner, then I was gone, having disappeared from sight.

I'd run to Derek's place in the woods, not wasting any time. He'd said it was burned down, but I hadn't expected it to be in complete ruins. "Hale!" I yelled as I jumped up the blackened porch steps, walking through the already open door and looking around with a grimace.

"What happened?" he asked, appearing at the top of the untrustworthy staircase. At least he was smart enough to realise this wasn't a social call.

"The lead hunter, from last night?" I told him, tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. "It's Allison Argent's father."

He looked like he was considering my words, gaze hardening with whatever he was thinking. "Does Scott know?"

"He just found out." He nodded, jogging down the stairs and striding out the door. I followed him out, refusing to walk behind him as I caught up, walking by his side. "Try to keep up," I said with a teasing grin, flashing him a wink before disappearing, leaving him in the dust. I heard his irritated and frustrated grunt as he fought to keep up, but he couldn't even come close. I decided to slow down the closer we got the the school, letting him catch up to me before we both stopped at the tree line to the lacrosse field.

The boys were running some kind of drills, but I wasn't interested in them. My eyes were on Scott, who had just been bowled over by some other kid who was standing over him, sneering at the young wolf. We slowly walked out of the forest, closer to the game. We both knew that this would have a negative impact on Scott's mental state, meaning he was more likely than ever to lose control. We stayed a bit back from the field, watching them talk amongst themselves as Scott was told to try again. I let my bag slide off my shoulder, setting it on the ground by my feet.

My lips twitched with amusement as Scott ran at the other boy at full force, slamming into him and knocking him on his ass. My smile was quickly wiped away however, when I caught sight of his glowing eyes and fangs. I sucked in a sharp breath, watching as Stiles hurried to his best friend's side, pulling him out of the sight of the crowd and towards the building. "Follow them," Derek grumbled from beside me. I wanted to argue – I didn't like being told what to do – but I knew there was logic to his command. It would be suspicious for him to wander into the school after some boys, but not me. I finally nodded, ducking my head and trailing the boys silently.

Once I'd followed them into the boys locker room, I was glad I'd done so. Scott was up in the rafters, snarling down at a hyperventilating Stiles who was backed into a wall. I appeared between them, holding my hands up placatingly to help calm him. "Hey mutt!" I yelled up at him, keeping calm so I wouldn't turn myself. He snarled at me, edging closer to the end of the rafter. "Okay, I mean _Scott_. Calm down, everything is fine. You don't really want to hurt Stiles, and I'm not looking to hurt you, so why don't you just take a breath and change back, okay?"

He didn't like what I'd said and dove down from the roof. I rolled my eyes, slamming out a hand and catching him around the throat. A pained, choking noise came from his mouth and I threw him back into some lockers. He dinted them where he slammed into the metal, and I pulled myself up to my full height, which was unfortunately several inches smaller than him. I didn't want to have to reveal myself, so I kept my lips pressed shut to conceal my fangs. He roared again, picking himself off the floor and taking a run at me. I sucked in a deep breath, thanking my lucky stars he had a helmet on, so there was no chance he could bite me. I dodged out of the way of his arm, sliding to the right and punching him in the gut.

His hand shot out and he landed a slap across my face, sending me flying back into the wall. I growled deep in my chest, sliding to my feet and walking back towards him, hands clenched and ready to break some bones. Before I got close enough to do any damage, we were both hit with a face-full of the freezing cold spray from a fire extinguisher. We both pulled back, stopping our fight. While I immediately turned to glare at the culprit, Scott collapsed onto a bench, peeling off his helmet and letting his head fall into his hands.

"Stiles?" the boy panted while I brushed off my jacket, wrinkling my nose at the shaking boy. "What happened?"

"You tried to kill me," he said irritatedly, ripping off his gloves and throwing them carelessly into the corner. "You would have succeeded if Juliet hadn't gotten here." I had a feeling that was meant to be some kind of thank you, and instantly felt uncomfortable, turning to lean against the wall, my arms crossed over my chest. "It's like I told you before, it's the anger. It's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."

"But that's lacrosse," he said, a desperate tone to his voice as I watched, keeping my face carefully schooled. "It's a pretty violent game if you hadn't noticed."

"Well it's going to be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field," he responded, and I nodded, the kid had a point. "You can't play saturday. You're gonna have to get out of the game."

I tensed as I heard his heart rate spike, preparing for another fight. "But I'm first line."

"Not anymore." He dropped his head into his hands again, and I watched him carefully. It would be all too easy for him to fall into another change. "How did you know?" Stiles asked, turning to face me on the bench.

I lifted up a single shoulder in a shrug. "I saw it happen," I told him honestly, blinking down into his eyes. "Thought I'd lend you a hand."

"Great," he said, standing to his feet and staring back at me. "So how about you answer a few questions?" I frowned at his words, tightening my crossed arms and tilting my head. "That's right, your little _intimidation_ tactic earlier didn't work on me. So tell me what you know, or I'll-"

"You'll what?" I asked, cocking my head fully and allowing a dark, humoured smile to spread across my red lips. I took a step forwards, making the young teen jerk back to keep away from me, stepping further back the more steps forward I took. "You'll do _what_, Stiles? Hurt me?" I backed him into the lockers, making him yelp as his back collided with the cool metal. "Don't think just because I saved your sorry ass this time, that means I won't tear your throat out with my teeth."

That threat was a lot more serious if he knew what I was, but I knew my words got the message across, so I backed off, turning back to a wide-eyed Scott. "But I have so many questions."

"Don't we all, kid," I responded, straightening my jacket and lifting my hand in a lazy salute as I spun around to leave the room.

"Please Juliet," Scott begged, grabbing my arm to stop me from stepping out of the room. I froze, looking down at the warm hand on my arm. "Wow," he murmured, suddenly distracted. "You _are_ cold."

I ripped my arm from his grasp, scowling at him as I once again turned to leave. "What if something happens?" Stiles spoke up, and I looked over my shoulder irritatedly.

"Excuse me?"

"What if Scott accidentally hurts someone, and we need help-your help? Supernatural help?" he asked bravely, feeling more confident as he spoke the words. "Help from another werewolf?"

Though he was wrong about my species, he had a point. It wouldn't be a bad idea for them to be able to contact me. If things went south, I was probably their best bet at covering a murder up, what with my compulsion and all. I huffed, spinning back around and holding out a hand expectantly. Stiles looked between me and my hand, unsure what to make of it. He hesitantly moved forwards, wrapping his hand in mine and grimacing like it disgusted him. I once again ripped away from his grip, scowling at him. "I meant hand me your phone, dumb-ass."

"Oh!" he blinked, red blotches appearing on his cheeks as he turned around, clumsily cracking open a locker and pulling out a small cell phone. I snatched it from him, frowning as I saw it was a touch screen. I was the clumsy one this time as I awkwardly slid my finger across the screen, trying to unlock it. "You-you just swipe-"

"I've got it," I snapped at him, finally succeeding in opening it. Then I stared at the phone with a bothered glare. I handed it back to him wordlessly, and he took it cautiously, though there was something like humour deep within his eyes. I recited my number, watching as he punched it into the device, then saved and shut it with ease. "That's for emergencies _only_. Are we clear?" I asked, staring up at the boy seriously.

"Crystal," he replied, flashing a smile that melted away with my glare.

"Thank you," a voice from my left said, and I shifted my gaze to where Scott stood, smiling at me awkwardly.

"Don't mention it." I turned on my heel and headed for the door, calling out over my shoulder, "I mean it, don't mention it. Ever."

They mumbled agreements, but I was already through the door and making my way back towards the field.

* * *

The next day was slightly better, I woke up after having a good nights sleep, feeling awake and alert. I skipped breakfast, deciding I'd just feed that night instead. However, when I got home from school I realised I only had one bag left. Cursing myself for being so stupid, I went straight to the hospital. I had to leave my car behind when I left the last town I'd been staying in, and had yet to get a new one. I pondered going down to the dealership and buying one, or at the very least compelling one off somebody, but for now I could walk, it helped me clear my mind.

I stepped through the automatic doors of the hospital, wrinkling my nose at the smell of disinfectant. I walked past the front desk like I belonged there, my head held high. I'd been here enough times to know where the blood bank was, and navigated the halls easily, slipping past doctors and patients alike until I made my way into the small, chilled room.

"Can I help you?" the nurse at a desk against the far wall asked, standing from her seat to greet me, a stern scowl on her bright pink lips.

I walked forwards, keeping my eyes locked on her and drawing her in. I kept our eyes locked, blindly handing over my empty bag. "You're going to fill this bag with blood bags."

"I'm going to fill it with blood bags," she droned monotonously, pupils contracting as she spoke.

"If people ask questions, tell them it was a paperwork mishap and all bags are accounted for."

"I'll tell them they're all accounted for," she repeated tonelessly. A small smile flickered to life on my lips and I blinked, effectively breaking the connection. She looked down, shaking her head once or twice to steady herself before turning around to complete her task. I watched her carefully, also monitoring the door to make sure nobody entered the room while she was filling the bag.

She finished, shutting the freezer door and moving back over to me, holding out the bag full of blood. "You'll forget I was ever here," I commanded her as I turned to leave.

I didn't wait to hear her repeat it, simply moving through to the hall and making my way out to the entry. I was just passing the front desk with a got hit in the face with a mouth-watering scent that was quickly becoming familiar.

"-I always thought that we had this kinda connection..." I heard his voice say and I paused, glancing over my shoulder to watch the boy flounder as he talked to a pretty girl I vaguely recognised from school. "You know, unspoken of course..." I smirked, smoothly sliding into a seat around the corner, crossing one leg over the other as I watched the scene before me unfold. "Maybe it would be kind of cool to...get to know each other a little better."

"Hold on, give me a second," her sweet voice said, and I listened to the rustle of her clothes as she moved. "Yeah, I didn't get any of what you just said. Was it worth repeating?"

"Uh-um...ah...no," he stuttered, exhaling sharply. I bit my lip to smother a laugh. "Sorry. I'm gonna sit...you don't care, okay."

He sat down in the seat beside me, picking up a magazine and holding it upside-down in front of his face, merely staring at the glossy pages. "That was brutal," I smirked, resting my chin on my hand as I watched him. He jumped out of his skin, hand grasping at his heart as it started beating a mile a minute. I wiggled my fingers at him playfully, enjoying the way that blotchy red blush spread across his mole-speckled face.

"Juliet," he squeaked, rubbing a hand over his short hair. "Didn't see you there." He glanced around awkwardly, heart still beating wildly in his chest. "What're you doing at the hospital?"

Even as he asked his eyes drifted to my feet where I'd left my bag. The top was open, and a single bag of blood was visible within it's depths. I kicked it with my combat boot, knocking the top back over it, concealing what I had hidden within. "Just visiting," I told him nonchalantly, deciding to forgo the compulsion this time around. He wouldn't say anything about it, I could tell. "What're _you_ doing at the hospital?"

"Oh, well you see Scott and I, we..." he trailed off, scrambling to finish his excuse.

"Yes?" I prompted with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his response.

Scott appeared by our side, staring down at us with a crease between his eyebrows. "Finished, Stiles. We can go now."

It was painfully obvious that neither of them really trusted me. I didn't mind, I didn't particularly trust them either. Besides, I wasn't looking for friends. They were the last thing I needed right now. I could tell he wanted to talk to him alone, so I grabbed the strap of my bag, pulling it up onto my back and standing to my feet. I didn't bother saying goodbye, just turned around and left. I knew they were up to something, I could tell by the way Scott's heart was racing and we was shifting his weight from foot to foot.

I stopped just outside the doors, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, leaning agains the wall of the large building and listening to their conversation closely.

They'd been here looking at the body that'd been found, or at least, half of the body. I cocked my head, listening as they whispered about how they thought Derek was the killer, and how they were going to get him arrested. I considered going straight to Derek to give the guy a heads up, but I decided I didn't care and rounded the corner just as they stepped out onto the pavement, whispering about how they had to go to Derek's burned down house that night to dig up a body.

I rolled my eyes, stepping onto the road and moving back towards my house. This was definitely not my problem.

* * *

I was watching some old war movie when I got the call. I'd just curled up under a pile of blankets on my couch and I had to sit up to reach it, doing so with a scowl. I picked up the old little thing, a Nokia I'd gotten back in 2005. The number wasn't in my phone but I wasn't surprised; very few were. I answered begrudgingly, "What?"

"Juliet!" the worried voice of Stiles yelled through the speaker, and I frowned, already annoyed I had answered the call.

"What do you want?"

"Scott's missing!"

I paused, frowning at my television uncomprehendingly for a long moment before asking again, "What?"

"Look, long story short, we had some wolfsbane in the car with us and it got to Scott. He flipped out and when I stopped the car he legged it. I have no idea where he went."

"Get Derek to help you," I told him, sinking back into my pillows.

"Ah, yeah...we kind of got him arrested." I snorted. I couldn't help it, I honestly found the whole thing kind of hilarious. "Come on," Stiles snapped, and through the phone I could hear the sound of tires against the road. He was driving. "Will you just help me?"

With a huff I told him my address and hung up, moving up to my room and pulling on some jeans and a hoodie just before there was an impatient knock at my door. I was in front of it in a second, cracking it open to stare at the boy, unimpressed.

"So-so this is where you live?" he said, blinking past me and into my house.

"Yeah," I told him, wondering where he was going with this.

"It's nicer than Derek's place, that's for sure," he mumbled.

"Are we going or what?" I asked him, and he instantly nodded, leading the way to his jeep.

"So, you can track him by scent, right?" he asked me as he settled into the drivers seat, pulling off the side of the road and moving the car down the street. "You can do that?"

My nose wasn't as sharp as a wolf's, but I could do basic tracking; that was easy enough. "Yeah," I told him with a nod he didn't see. Without asking I rolled down the passenger window, taking a deep breath in. "I've got nothing," I said with a frown, squinting out into the distance. "Take me to where you lost him. I'll track him from there."

He took a sudden sharp turn into a side street, clearly anxious to find his friend before he did something he's seriously regret. Eventually he pulled up at a seemingly random place in the woods, and I stuck my head out of the open window, sniffing cautiously. I caught the familiar scent of wet dog and Scott's aftershave.

"Okay," I said, gesturing for him to drive on. He pressed his foot to the accelerator gently, moving the jeep forwards slowly. We continued along the path for a few minutes, until suddenly I lost the scent. "Stop," I commanded, barely waiting for the vehicle to come to a complete stop before cracking open the door and sliding out. I moved deeper into the woods, but not so far that Stiles couldn't see me. I paused, pressing my hand to a tree trunk that smelt faintly of werewolf. "He went up into the trees, I think," I called back to Stiles, who'd clamoured out of the car, waiting by the road side as he watched me. "I can't track him like this."

The boy deflated, shoulders slumping disappointedly.

I pursed my lips, feeling like the right thing to do was console him, offer him some form of comfort. He blinked and I was standing in front of him. He jumped, startled by my sudden appearance. I lifted my hand, moving touch his shoulder but deciding at the last moment it was too awkward. "Uh, don't worry?" I said, though it sounded more like a question than a reassurance. "It's not a full moon, so he's probably not going to hurt anyone. He should still be in control."

He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the front of his car, staring out into the foggy woods. "More than anything I'm just worried about how he'd be able to live with himself if anybody _did_ get hurt."

I nodded like I understood, scratching at my arm even though it wasn't itchy.

I didn't quite understand that kind of logic. What did it matter if anybody got hurt? I'd spent centuries ruthlessly killing people without a shred of guilt, back when I'd flicked the switch on my humanity. Now that I was allowing myself to feel again – however minutely – I supposed I could see what he meant. I wasn't too sure whether werewolves had the same humanity switch vampires did, but I doubted it.

I crossed my own arms, mirroring Stiles' stance and turning my gaze to the lingering fog. "Uh, maybe he just needs time? He'll show up soon."

"Did this happen to you?" he asked, glancing over at me sheepishly. "Back when you were bitten?"

If there was ever a time to come clean, it was now. But I wasn't ready. When people found out what I was they tended to look at me in a certain way, a way that made something in my gut twist painfully. And if I was going to be here a while like I'd planned, I didn't want the only people I had regular contact with to view me as a monster. I decided to keep up the charade for a while longer. I didn't feel like lying, so I pulled out the oldest trick in the book and changed the subject. "Come on," I said, pushing myself off his car and moving back around to the passenger seat and peeking up at the darkening sky. "It's getting late."

"Right," he muttered, walking around and sliding back into his seat. The drive back home was silent, both of us lost in thought.

* * *

I wandered onto the field the next day, cigarette in one hand, phone in my other as I made my way to the stands. I wasn't planning on coming to the game, I didn't care for lacrosse, but an urgent text from Stiles made me reconsider.

_Found Scott. We're at the school. He's definitely playing. May need your help._

I took a long drag from my stick and took a seat on the stands. I wished, not for the first time, that I hadn't chosen this town to stay in. Things were so much easier back in Washington. I wondered yet again why the boy was trusting _me_ of all people. In his mind I was associated with the Hale kid, and he didn't trust the wolf as far as he could throw him. So what was different about me?

The team slowly made their way onto the field, and I flicked the ash off the end of my cigarette, watching them closely as the game began to start. Stiles plopped himself on the bench, then looked over his shoulder, eyes scanning the crowd. I wondered who he was looking for, then was surprised when his eyes caught mine and he lit up with relief. I frowned, I didn't want the boy to get attached to me, it would only lead to heartache on his end when I inevitably either killed him or left town. Either way, if I continued to give him any kind of hope for a friendship between us, well leading him on was just as cruel as hurting him. So I didn't respond to his smile, simply letting my eyes slide past him like I hadn't even noticed he was there.

I watched the game disinterestedly, mostly just monitoring Scott's heart rate. It rose with all the running he was doing, but not high enough for me to worry. I wondered what I'd do if he turned on the field; probably just fake a seizure or something to give Stiles a chance to get him to the safety of the tree line.

Things were pretty boring. The home team was losing by two and Scott had yet to catch a single ball. I was getting plenty of dirty looks for not cheering when our team miraculously got a goal, but I couldn't have cared less.

I looked down at my phone, barely paying attention to the game when suddenly a cheer spread through the crowd. I glanced up, blinking at the field in surprise as I watch Scott dart out of the path of the opposing team, dodging their advances and sprinting to the other end of the field, aiming and shooting, the ball sailing from the crosse and into the net. I pursed my lips, focusing my full concentration on the game. From there things only got worse, for me at least. It seemed like Scott was keeping things under control, at least until he turned towards the crowd and I caught a glimpse of his glowing amber eyes. I stood abruptly, walking through the cheering crowd until I made it to the bottom.

I stormed over to Stiles, forgetting that I was supposed to be ignoring him. "What the hell is he doing?" I asked, and he jumped violently when he noticed I was sitting on the bench beside him, not having heard me approach.

"Uh, winning us the game?" the boy replied once his heart had calmed down.

"You realise there's a hunter in the crowd," I hissed back, keeping my posture casual and relaxed, the last thing I wanted to was alert anybody that something was wrong. We both glanced to the field, pausing our conversation as we noticed Scott freeze, glancing around wildly.

Stiles jumped to his feet. "No, no, no," he muttered, grabbing his head worriedly. Everything stopped as we watched, waiting to see what he'd do. With one mighty swing of his arm he brought his crosse back, throwing the ball directly into the net. "Yeah!" Stiles screamed in triumph as the horn sounded, signalling the end of the game. I continued to keep an eye on the boy as the crowd poured down from the stands to congratulate the team. "Whoo!" he yelled again, throwing his arms in the air. Some of the teammates ran towards him, clapping him on the back before moving on to celebrate with the next person. Somebody's arms wrapped around me and I looked over my shoulder at the player in a red jersey. I scowled and shoved the stranger off me, wiping the sweat he'd transferred to my hands off on my jeans with annoyance.

Soon enough the stands were clear of people, and I stood to leave. As I made my way off the field I caught a snatch of a conversation between the sheriff and somebody on the other end of the phone. I paused by the tree line as Stiles' father was told about Derek Hale's release. He hung up the phone with a heavy sigh, moving over to his son and mumbling what he'd found out. Stiles stepped back with wide eyes and his head shot to the direction I'd walked off in. it was impossible for him to see me in the dark, but I felt as though he met my eyes, heart pounding wildly in his chest as he turned and darted back towards the locker rooms where I knew he would be telling Scoot what he'd heard.

"How was your time in the slammer?" I asked lightly, pulling a cigarette from my bag and lighting it up, resting my weight against a thick tree trunk and not bothering to glance over my shoulder at the wolf who had padded up behind me almost silently. "Get any prison tattoos?"

"You could have gotten me out," he grumbled sourly, stopping beside me and staring out at the crowd of people slowly leaving the field.

"I didn't care enough to try," I told him honestly, lifting one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. I felt more than saw Derek scowl, and a smirk appeared on my lips as I turned to leave. "You'd better get rid of the evidence Scott left behind," I said, gesturing to the glove laying on the now-empty field. He didn't respond, but I didn't care, striding off into the comforting darkness where I belonged.


	4. Something's Gotta Give

_Wake me up_

_Say enough is enough_

_I'm dying to live_

_Something's gotta give_

_Pull me out_

_Of this sinking town_

_I'm dying to live_

_Something's gotta give_

Something's Gotta Give – All Time Low

* * *

Walking into school a day or two later, I definitely wasn't expecting to see one of the buses with it's back door ripped open, blood covering the tacky yellow paint. I couldn't get too close without arousing suspicion, but I knew I'd have to look into it. I figured Stiles would know something about it, what with having a sheriff as a father.

So I made my way to class like usual, stepping through the door to chemistry, taught by class-a douche bag – Mr Harris. I strode past him, glaring at the back of his head as I moved down through the tables, into my seat at the back of the class. I shared this period with Scott and Stiles, and though I could usually tune them out, this particular time I couldn't help but listen in on their hushed conversation.

"Maybe it was my blood on the door," Scott muttered to his best friend anxiously, twisting a pen in his hands.

"Could have been animal blood," Stiles suggested. "You know? Maybe you caught a rabbit or something."

"And did what?" he asked worriedly and I tucked a piece of my raven hair behind my ear, turning so I could hear slightly better.

"Ate it."

"Raw?" the young wolf gasped, horrified at the thought.

"No, you stopped to bake it in a little werewolf oven." A laugh bubbled up from my chest, spilling out of my lips before I could do anything to stop it. The sound was louder than I anticipated, making the whole class, teacher included, turn to look at me. I clicked my tongue awkwardly, then cleared my throat and turned to stare at the board resolutely, acting like nothing had happened. I caught a glimpse of Stiles grinning in my peripheral vision and pressed my lips together firmly.

"Mr Stilinski, if that's your idea of a hushed whisper then you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr McCall would benefit from a little distance."

"No," Stiles argued, only to be shut down by our dragon of a teacher immediately.

"Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much," he drawled, pointing at them to move to opposite sides of the room. They sighed, picking up their things and walking over to their new desks. Scott wandered up to the front of the room, while Stiles moved back towards me. I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping he wouldn't chose the spare seat beside me.

Unfortunately, I wasn't a very lucky vampire.

"Hey partner!" Stiles chirped as he slid into the seat, dropping his things on the table in front of him. I blinked up at him passively, deciding it best not to respond. I turned back to the page in front of me, picking my pen back up and going back to my idle drawing. "Wow," he breathed, scooting his chair closer to mine and bending his neck to look at my work. "That's amazing. Have you had art lessons?"

_Yeah, a hundred and fifty years ago._

I kept my mouth shut, studiously ignoring him as I continued to sketch the mane of a mighty lion. "Do you think you could draw me?" he asked loudly, leaning so far over in his seat that he nearly toppled over, and would have fallen flat on his face if I hadn't shot out an arm to steady him.

"Mr Stilinski," mr Harris sighed, turning back around the face the class and crossing his arms. "Do I need to move you _again_?"

"No sir," he responded, ducking his head and focusing his attention on the textbook in front of him.

A minute of tense silence past, them some girl in the front row shouted, "Hey! I think they found something!"

Everyone leapt from their seats and ran over to the windows, peering out of the glass curiously. I rolled my eyes, propping my feet up on Stiles' vacated chair and continuing my sketching. "That's not a rabbit," Scott muttered worriedly. I wasn't concerned, chances were it was the alpha that made such a mess, not Scott. Even if the boy was a werewolf, he was new at it and barely knew his head from his ass. I knew I could take him in a fight, no question, so I didn't let it bother me. If I needed to know, I'd find out from one of the deputies later on. For now I just needed to focus on getting the tail of my lion just right.

Whatever they saw scared them, because everyone in the group jumped back, letting pathetic little screams out of their pathetic little mouths. I didn't so much as flinch, rolling my eyes and ignoring everything they were muttering about, focusing my hearing on Scott and Stiles, who'd broken away from the group and were mumbling between themselves in a corner. "So this is good. He's not dead! Dead guys can't do that."

"Stiles," Scott breathed, staring out the window with a stricken look on his face. "_I _did that."

Interesting. The boy seemed to be under the impression he was the one to do it. And by the look Stiles shot me, I knew they were going to come to me for answers.

They took longer than I expected to corner me, taking seats at the empty lunch table I'd scored myself, glaring away anyone who tried to take the seat opposite me. Scott slid into the spot in front of me and Stiles appeared beside me, placing his tray on the table with a rattling _thud._

"What?" I asked, though I already knew what they were going to say.

"Scott seems to be under the impression he was the one to attack that guy on the bus last night, because he had a dream that something like it happened to him. Can you tell him he's wrong please?" Stiles asked in one breath, turning in his seat to face me fully.

I tapped my hands on the empty metal table in front of me, not having bothered to keep up the charade of eating food. "How the hell should I know?" I asked rudely, frowning at the pair of boys.

"Um, because you're also a werewolf?!" Stiles practically yelled, making the people a table over look at us weirdly.

I cringed, crossing my arms and glancing over at the short-haired boy with a scowl. "Say it louder, why don't you? I don't think they heard you in Connecticut."

He pressed his lips together like he was holding back a retort and I bit my lip to cover a smirk. "Look, is there anything I can do? Something to help me remember what happened?"

I slid my green eyes past Stiles, fixing my unnerving stare on the young wolf. I might have been old and admittedly, a little wise, but that didn't mean I knew all the tricks and tips of being a werewolf. "You want my advice?" I asked, cocking my head.

"Yes!"

"Talk to Derek Hale."

Neither of them liked my answer, both of them making annoyed groans. It was silent for a moment as Stiles cracked open his yogurt and Scott bit into an apple. "You aren't hungry?" Stiles asked after he'd swallowed a mouthful, gesturing to the empty table in front of me.

"Why?" I asked, unable to stop a smirk as it spread across my lips this time. "Are you offering?"

His face twisted into a confused frown but before he could comment a somewhat familiar red-headed girl slammed her tray on the table, plopping into a seat beside Scott. People began to flood the table, and I scowled, scooping up my bag and sliding from my seat and letting a good looking younger boy take it, moving over to the doors and stepping out into the sun before the boy had even noticed I'd gone.

* * *

I wasn't expecting anyone to knock at my door at nine at night. Nobody even knew I lived here, except Stiles. As I opened the door I remembered the only other person I'd given my address to.

"Hello Derek," I sighed, leaning in the doorway and watching as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"We've got to go question the driver who was attacked," he dead-panned, expression not even twitching. He turned away, hopping down my porch steps and making his way back to his car which was parked in front of my house. After a beat he realised I wasn't following him, turning around to stare at me exasperatedly. "What are you doing?" he asked in annoyance, staring at me with a scowl through the darkness.

"Waiting for you to grow some manners," I responded tightly, crossing my arms and returning his stare with a stubborn one of mine.

He blinked at me, eyes narrowing. "You want me to say _please_?"

"Yes."

He huffed, tipping back his head and closing his eyes as though he were praying for patience. "Please come with me to question the driver," he muttered, so quietly I wouldn't have heard it if I wasn't a vampire.

I grinned with false brightness, reaching my hand inside my door to pull my old Harvard hoodie from where it hung on the back of the door handle. I wasn't cold, but I knew it was meant to be a cold night, and walking around without a jacket on would be stupid. I shrugged it on over my t-shirt and closed the door, shoving my hands in the pocket at the front and meeting Derek at his car.

We drove towards the hospital, Derek telling me that he expected me to compel the man to tell us everything he'd seen the night he was attacked. On our way the little fuel light on his dashboard started to blink. He sighed heavily but pulled into the next gas station we came across. He slid out of the car, moving to the pump and sliding the trigger into the correct place.

I was just messing with his radio, looking for something good and trying not to break it accidentally when a car pulled in opposite me. I frowned at the car, the expression deepening when I heard the sound of tyres on gravel from behind me too. We were surrounded. I assumed they were probably part of a gang that Derek owed money to or something, but my still heart clenched as the hunter – Allison's father – from the other night slid out of the car. Derek looked between the older male hunter and the ones getting out of the other car, slowly and deliberately putting away the gas trigger.

I cracked open the passenger side door, setting my converse-clad feet on the hard ground and slipping out, shutting it quietly behind me and glancing between the hunters, fists clenched in anticipation of a fight.

"Nice ride," Argent said with a smug smirk, stepping closer to Derek's sleek black car. "Black cars though, very hard to keep clean." He slowly ran his hand up the side of the car as he strolled closer to the irritated wolf. "I would definitely suggest a little more maintenance. You have something this nice, you wanna take care of it, right? Personally, I'm very protective of the things I love." I watched with crossed arms as he picked up the window washer from the bucket, running the wet side over the glass of the windshield. "That's something I learned from my family, and you don't have much of that these days. Do you?"

I heard Derek growl under his breath, his body tensing as he prepared for a fight. "Derek," I said tightly, a warning. All of their eyes snapped to me, and I winced internally. Externally I was expressionless, stony faced with my chin held high.

"Juliet Cooper, right?" Argent said, pausing the cleaning job he was undertaking to look at me fully. "Haven't heard much about you. But I'm sure you too can understand what I'm saying."

My gums tingled, itching to flash my fangs at him. I swallowed the urge. As far as I knew they were operating under the assumption that I was a werewolf, which for me, was definitely a good thing. "There you go then," he smiled when I nodded, dropping the window washer into the bucket and dusting off his hands. "You can actually look through your windshield now. Doesn't that make everything so much clearer?"

He turned to leave and I felt anger swell up within. Who gave him the _right?_

"Forgot to check the oil," Derek said.

I smirked wickedly, "And the tyres."

He paused, turning back around with a smirk. "Check the man's oil and tyres."

A man from behind us nodded, moving forward and without warning slamming the but of his gun into the window, smashing it to pieces. I didn't flinch, I never flinched, I just stared back at him, wishing I had the guts to snap his worthless little neck. "Looks good to me."

"Drive safely."

They all slid back into their cars and left us there. Derek growled, loudly this time, slamming his hand against the back of his car so hard I was surprised it didn't dent it. "Where the fuck do they get off?" he hissed angrily. I wasn't very good at handling people's emotions, so I just shrugged and cracked open the passenger side door, leaning over to brush off the glass of the seat.

"Go pay for your gas," I told him, barely wincing as the glass cut into the palm of my hand.

He muttered more profanities under his breath, turning on his heel and marching into the gas station. I finally got the majority of the glass off the seat, turning my hands palm-up so I could stare at my bloody hands. Slowly but surely the cuts healed themselves, though left blood smeared on my skin. I wiped it off on my dark jeans, jumping back into the seat and kicking my feet up onto the dash, waiting for Derek to come back out.

"No," he dead-panned when he slid back into the car. "Feet off dash."

"Killjoy," I muttered sardonically, sliding my feet down and crossing my legs. The rest of the ride to the hospital was done in silence, Derek trying to control his rage and me trying to ignore Derek's rage.

By the time we got to the hospital I was already wishing I'd stayed home, but I knew it was important we did this. I needed to find out who the alpha was and kill him if I ever wanted some peace and quiet in this God forsaken town. We strolled passed the desk like we owned the place, not making eye contact with anyone as we slipped into the man's room.

"Quickly," Derek urged, keeping watch by the door.

I crept towards where the bloodied man lay in the bed, eyes clenched shut tightly. I stared at him, letting my voice fall flat as my power of persuasion did it's magic. "Open your eyes." His eyes snapped open and he stared unseeingly up at the ceiling. "What do you remember?" I asked, and instead of answering his eyes slid past me to where Derek stood at the door.

"Hale," he wheezed, staring at Derek with a horrorstruck gaze.

"How do you know me?" the beta asked, surging forward to stare at the injured man properly.

"I'm sorry," he spluttered, sounding like it pained him to talk. "I'm sorry."

I frowned, leaning back over his face to make our eyes meet. Some people could resist if we, say, did it over the phone. Once they looked in our eyes, however, there was no chance. "What do you remember?" I asked slowly, watching his pupils dilate rapidly.

"Red eyes," he breathed. "Bright red eyes. And blood. So much blood."

"What else?" I continued, drawing him even further into my hold.

"He-he," the man stuttered, then a wheezing, choking noise came from his throat, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks and he began seizing.

"We need to get out of here," I hissed, pinning around and grabbing Derek by the collar of his jacket. "_Now._"

We were gone before anyone could see us, escaping into the night, no remorse on our hearts, only anger at the alpha that caused all of this.

* * *

"They don't know you're a vampire," he said, breaking the tense silence that had filled his car. "They think you're a werewolf."

"I know," I responded curtly.

"It gives us an advantage if they don't know," he told me, and I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window.

"I guess," I shrugged, blinking up at the cloud-covered moon. "At least if they come after me with wolfsbane and mistletoe, I'll be okay."

"And that's the most important thing," he spat, but I chose to ignore him. "We have to find this thing," Derek said after a long moment as we pulled up outside my house, hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel as he stared out into the darkness ahead of him.

"Since when is it _we_?" I countered with a disgusted cringe, not liking the idea of teaming up with the werewolf any more than I already was.

"Since it killed that man," he insisted passionately, rearing around to stare at me. "Since we know it'll kill again."

"I'm a vampire," I hissed through clenched teeth. "What do I care if people die?"

"If that were true you wouldn't be helping me in the first place," he responded bluntly.

I pursed my lips, deciding not to snap back at him and instead turning and opening the car door, swinging around until my feet hit the road. "Come get me if you find anything," I muttered over my shoulder, sliding out of his car and slamming the door shut behind me. I stormed my way up the path to my porch, making a stray cat on my lawn hiss at me and run away. Once I was safely inside I toed off my shoes and slipped off my hoodie, making my way up the stairs and turning on music loud enough to drown out my own thoughts.


	5. Death Valley

_I wanna see your animal side_

_Let it all out_

_Oh there you go; undress to impress_

_You can wear the crown but you're no princess_

Death Valley – Fall Out Boy

* * *

"Juliet."

I looked up from the textbook I was doodling in, frowning as I heard someone grunt my name. I looked around; nobody in my french class was paying any attention to me.

"Juliet."

It was definitely coming from outside the classroom. It sounded kind of like...Derek.

"Juliet."

I slammed my textbook shut, slipping it into my bag and standing from my seat. "Where do you think you're going?" the teacher asked, a stern frown on her orange painted lips.

I glanced up, catching her eye and holding it. "I'm leaving," I told her flatly. She blinked a few times, shaking her head before nodding pleasantly. I didn't wait around, spinning on my heel and leaving the room. I stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right for any sign of Derek.

"Juliet."

It was coming from a floor down. I walked to the stairs at a human pace, jumping down them as quickly as I could without looking suspicious then searching for the werewolf again. I took a breath in, my body freezing when I smelt blood. Luckily for him, it was werewolf blood; practically repulsive to my kind. I moved towards where the scent was coming from, rounding a corner and running straight into a pale, sickly looking Derek Hale.

"Well don't you look like death warmed up," I commented, raising an eyebrow as I watched him lean against the lockers for support, eyes flicking to the blood dripping down his arm onto the linoleum floor.

"Yeah?" he breathed, eyes narrowing in a glare. "Well you actually _are _death warmed up," he retorted snappishly, though he sounded weak.

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to comment. The bell rang, and the wolf cowered against the wall, hands pressed to his head like it was in agony. Students began to flood the hallway and despite how much it disgusted me I slid up beside him, wrapping my arm around him and heaving his weight onto me, practically carrying him down the hallway. "Let's get you out of sight before one of these kids spots your trail of blood."

I dragged him out of the school and down the steps, out onto the footpath. There was no way I was going to be able to get him to the tree line before somebody noticed us. It was then I caught sight of a familiar head in the front seat of a blue jeep.

"Come on," I mumbled to Derek, pulling him out onto the road in front of the boy's car.

He slammed the breaks on, but not fast enough and his car slammed into my side. I grunted as I felt my ribs give way, cracking at the impact. I let go of Derek, who tumbled to the ground. I hissed in pain, grasping my injured side. Stiles jumped out of his Jeep, running around to stare at us like we were crazy. "What the hell?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air. He glanced down at his jeep, eyes widening as he noticed the dint in the front. "You dented my Jeep!"

"You broke my ribs!" I snapped back harshly, clutching my aching side. I felt a familiar heat spread across my middle that I'd come to associate with my body's healing process. I groaned as my ribs clicked back into place, then glanced down at a barely conscious Derek. People began to back up behind Stiles' car, beeping rudely at us with impatience.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked in a hushed voice, appearing beside Derek.

"I was shot," he puffed in reply, obviously struggling to breathe.

"He's not looking so good, dude," Stiles spoke up.

"Why aren't you healing?"

"I can't," he responded. "It was-it was a different kind of bullet."

I frowned, knowing the hunters were obviously behind it. Who else had access to wolfsbane? "What? A silver bullet?"

Both Derek and I shot exasperated looks at him. "No, you idiot," he growled, glaring up at the boy from his place on the ground.

"Wait, that's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours."

"What?" Derek asked. "Who said forty-eight hours?"

"The one who shot you," Scott responded innocently. The older wolf's eyes began to glow their bright blue, and he glanced around, worried somebody would see. "What are you doing? Stop that."

"He can't," I hissed, crouching down beside him. This was getting serious; we were close to exposure.

"Derek,_ get up_," he commanded as strongly as he could, which wasn't very. He huffed, jumping to his feet and moving around so he could get a better grip on the older wolf. "Help me put him in your car."

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue, but I cut him off with a glare, reaching over to pull Derek to his feet in one scoop of my arm. Scott led him around to the passenger side and secured him in the seat. The person behind Stiles blared their horn for the hundredth time and I flipped them off irritatedly, cracking open the back door and sliding in without asking permission.

"I need you to find out what kinda bullet they used," Derek mumbled to Scott while Stiles climbed in the drivers seat.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"She's an Argent. She's with them."

"Why should I help you?"

"Because you need me."

"Fine, I'll try," he replied defeatedly, running a hand over his face and glancing back at the banked up cars behind the jeep. "Get him out of here."

"I hate you for this so much," Stiles grumbled, putting the car into gear and finally moving down the road. "I can't believe this is happening," he muttered to himself, pulling out onto the main road and glancing at me in his rearview mirror. I wiggled my fingers at him, raising my eyebrows teasingly. He exhaled sharply, turning his eyes back to the road. We drove for a few minutes in silence before Stiles took one hand off the wheel to dig in his pocket, pulling out a cell phone and handing it over to me. "Can you do something useful and text Scott, see where he is with finding the bullet?"

I bit my lip, looking down at the silver contraption in my hands. I pressed the button then slid my finger across the screen, frowning at all the multicoloured boxes within the glass.

"I'm sorry, is it too hard for you?" he asked with wide, mocking eyes as he noticed me staring down at the phone silently.

"Shut up," I murmured back, finding the little button that said messages and pressing it open. I picked Scott's name and beginning to type the message. It took me a few minutes as I, ironically, wasn't exactly the fastest typer in the world. Finally I sent it and only a few moments later a text came through. "_Need more time,_" I read out before sliding the phone back into Stiles' waiting hand.

"Hey, try not to bleed out on my seats, okay?" he spat at Derek as the wolf began to peel off his jacket, clutching his wounded arm in pain, sweat covering his face. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?"

"Your house?"

Derek spun around to look at the boy in alarm. "No, you can't take me there."

"I can't take you to your own house?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

"Not when I can't protect myself."

"Juliet can protect you."

"I'm not putting my life in her hands!"

Stiles slammed his foot to the brake, bringing the car to a stop as he veered off to the side of the road. "What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet?" he asked loudly, turning in his seat to face Derek fully. "Hm? Are you dying?"

"Not yet. I have a last resort."

"What do you mean? What last resort?!" he yelled, staring at him and waiting for an answer I was pretty confident wouldn't come. Derek lifted up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a bullet wound on his forearm, caked in blood. "Oh my God, what is that?" Stiles gagged, obviously having a hard time stomaching the sight. "Ew, is that contagious? You know what? You should probably just get out."

"Start the car. Now."

"I don't think you should be barking orders," Stiles replied sharply, and I snorted at the thinly veiled dog pun. "What with the way you look. Okay? In fact I think if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead."

I smiled, humoured by his little threat.

"Start the car, or I'm going to rip your throat out with my teeth." He paused glancing back at me. "Or better yet, I'll have her do it. Then you'll_ really _be in trouble."

Stiles swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing underneath his translucent skin. He looked over his shoulder at me and I grinned wickedly. He didn't know I'd sworn off the fresh stuff, so to him it was a possibility that I could rip into his neck. Though he didn't know what I was yet, it was still enough of a threat to make his heart pound in his chest. His eyes flickered between us nervously for a long moment before he snapped his attention back to the road and started the car.

We drove around aimlessly for a long while, a tense silence filling the cab of the jeep. Derek grunted every now and then from the pain, and I got bored pretty quickly, pulling out a book from my bag and cracking it open, beginning to read. I was distracted by Derek's laboured breathing, and eventually Stiles tossed his phone back to me. I snatched it out of the air with ease, looking down at it apprehensively. "Send another text to Scott, tell him Derek's not looking so good." He apparently also noticed Derek was getting was getting worse by the minute.

It took me a while, but I did as I was asked. "I'd give you some blood, if it wouldn't kill you," I told Derek offhandedly, tossing Stiles' phone onto the seat beside me.

"Even if it wouldn't kill me, I wouldn't accept it anyway," he retorted breathlessly, eyes clenched tight as he no doubt fought through another wave of pain.

It was quiet for a moment before Stiles spoke up, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel idly. "So how do you two know each other, anyway?" he glanced at me in the mirror. "Are you guys cousins or something?"

I blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. "We don't know each other," I admitted honestly, shrugging my shoulders and settling further into the back seat. The cab of the jeep smelt like mint gum and curly fries, an odd but not altogether terrible combination. "We met for the first time when you guys did."

"_What_?" Stiles asked, sounding scandalised.

"It isn't a big deal," I said, rolling my eyes and running a hand through my raven locks.

"Yes, actually, it is," he corrected me, flicking on the indicator as he made a right into a side street. "We've been operating under the assumption that the two of you have known each other and are working together."

"Why would you talk to me then?" I couldn't help but ask, sitting up and shifting forwards, laying my arms on the seat dividing us to peer at the side of the boy's face. "If you thought I was working with him. Why would you trust me?"

He paused, frowning at the dark road in front of him like he wasn't sure how to answer. Finally, after a long deliberation that I got the feeling was out of character for him, he responded, "You know what they say; keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

I sat back abruptly, crossing my arms and turning to glare out of the window. I didn't know why his answer bothered me so much, I had no idea what I'd expected to say, and yet I couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed. I glanced up at the rising moon then at the mansion we just passed. "This is the fifth time we've driven past that house," I told him sourly, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror.

"Well what else am I supposed to do other than circle the block?" he asked, his voice raised slightly. I could feel him trying to catch my gaze, and couldn't help but think that if he knew what I was the last thing he'd want to do would be meet my eyes. "You know what?" he said when he got no answer other than my stony silence and a pained grunt from Derek. "I'm ringing Scott again. Hand me my phone."

I was about to snap that I didn't like being told what to do, but I knew it wouldn't help anything, so I kept my lips pressed shut as I handed him his phone back. He dialled his friend's number, holding the small cell up to his ear.

"Scott!" he shouted once he picked up.

"Stiles, listen you've gotta keep going a little longer, man," I heard the teen wolf's voice say and scowled. He sure was taking his sweet time.

"What am I supposed to do with him?"

"Take him somewhere. Anywhere."

"And by the way, he's starting to smell," Stiles commented, throwing Derek a disgusted look. I sniffed hesitantly, nearly gagging at the putrid scent that flooded my nose.

"Like what?" Scott asked curiously.

"Like _death_."

"Huh," Derek sniggered weakly, wincing as the movement hurt his arm but still taking the time to glance back at me. "That's ironic."

"Shut up before I rip out your tongue, you mutt," I hissed at him, angered by his jab at my scent. Stiles' keen eyes flickered between he and I, lit up like he was trying to figure something out, like we'd just given him a clue to a puzzle.

"Okay, take him to the animal clinic," Scott finally decided.

"What about your boss?" Stiles asked, attention back on the conversation at hand.

"He's gone by now. There's a spare key in the box behind the dumpster."

"You're not going to believe where he's telling me to take you," he sighed, handing the phone to Derek and pressing a hand to his head.

"Did you find it?" the werewolf asked abruptly once the phone was pressed to his ear.

I ignored the rest of the conversation, tuning out the sound of their voices. I tried not to think about how Stiles' had so quickly labelled me as an enemy. I supposed, at the root of it all, I was a vampire; I would always be their enemy.

* * *

Stiles shoved open the door to the veterinary clinic, holding it open while I dragged a sluggish Derek in after him, the wolf barely able to stand on his own two feet. He pushed away from me, shrugging off his top and casting it aside. I let my eyes roam the man's torso, a primal hunger in me that had nothing to do with his blood. I blinked as my eyes caught sight of his wound, black veins not unlike my own when my true face showed crept up his arm and around his bicep. I forced my mind off my sexual desires, reminding myself that he was a fucking _werewolf _and instead focusing on the task at hand.

"You know that really doesn't look like anything a good night sleep couldn't take care of," Stiles chimed unconfidently, smiling nervously and keeping his gaze away from the bloody wound.

"If the infection reaches my heart it'll kill me," Derek panted, swaying on his feet.

"Positivity just isn't in your vocabulary, is it?"

"If he doesn't get here with the bullet in time...last resort," he breathed, pulling open drawers, obviously looking for something. I knew what he was talking about, and the last thing I felt like doing was sawing his arm off. I didn't want to get blood on my hoodie.

"Which is?" Stiles asked cluelessly.

He held up a small saw, stating grimly, "You're going to cut off my arm."

The boy froze, gaze flicking between us, trying to determine if we were serious or not. "What?" he choked, blinking up at us, his face suddenly as pale as mine. "Um, no."

"Um, yes," I responded, pulling off my hoodie, leaving me in a white tank top. I threw it on a counter in the corner, where the blood splatter was least likely to ruin it. Stiles averted his eyes and I rolled mine; I wasn't showing anything tasteless. I picked up a piece of cord, moving over to wrap it around his bicep, above where the veins reached.

"Oh my God," Stiles gagged as he clicked on the saw, dropping it onto the table. "What if you bleed to death?"

"It'll heal if it works," Derek responded as I finished tying the cord.

"Look, I don't know if I can do this."

"Why not?"

"The cutting of the flesh, the sawing of the bone and especially the _blood_."

I let out one short laugh, pressing a hand to my mouth to cover the smile that spread across my lips. "You faint at the sight of blood?"

"No, but I might at the sight of a _chopped off arm_!" He glanced between us desperately. "Can't Juliet do it while I leave the room and save myself the trauma?" he asked hopefully.

I shook my head, stepping away from Derek's tempting body and crossing my arms, keeping my eyes on Stiles. "I have to hold him down."

"How about this? Either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head," Derek threatened weakly.

"Okay, you know what? I'm so not buying your threats anymore-" Derek reached across the table, grasping the front of Stiles's shirt and yanking him over the metal table, a glare hardening on his face. "Holy crap. Okay, alright, fine. I'll do it."

He jerked back suddenly when the wolf turned his head to the side, tipping his head over the end of the table and opening his mouth, a sticky black substance pouring from his lips and onto the ground. I jumped back, away from the mess to make sure it didn't get on my shoes.

"Holy God, what the hell is that?" Stiles whined, cringing at the inky black liquid.

"It's my body, it's trying to heal itself."

"Well, it's not doing a very good job of it."

"Now," he panted, looking up at us pleadingly. "You've gotta do it now."

"Look, honestly I don't think I can..."

"Just do it!"

I grasped hold of Derek's shoulders, pressing my weight down to keep him positioned on the table. "Okay, here I go," Stiles wheezed, picking up the saw and getting ready to hold it. "I'm gonna do it."

"Stop announcing it, and just do it," I snapped, using my supernatural strength to hold the werewolf in place.

"Stiles?"

We all paused, glancing up at the doorway. "Scott?"

The younger wolf appeared, panting, obviously having rushed here. He stopped and took in the sight of Stiles with a saw held to Derek's tied off arm and me with my hands braced to his shoulders, clearly holding him down. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares," Stiles chuckled giddily, elated he wouldn't be sawing off Derek's arm.

"Did you get it?" Hale asked, forehead pressed to the cool metal of the table. Scott hurriedly dug into his pockets, fishing out a long, thin bullet and handing it over to the swaying wolf.

"What are you going to do with it?" Stiles asked hesitantly, frowning at the small object.

"I'm gonna-" he cut himself off, arms going slack as he fell to the floor. I watched him pass out, stepping back and staring down at him with a raised brow. I wasn't in the mood for burying a body tonight; it'd been a long day.

Scott scrambled after the fallen bullet while I merely leaned against the table, flicking my hair out of my eyes and watching with slight interest as it all unfolded. "Come on Derek," Stiles muttered, dropping to his knees beside the collapsed man, shaking him violently. He sucked in a breath, "Please don't kill me for this." He drew his arm back before pushing it forward, punching Hale in the face. I let out a breathy laugh and the wolf's eyes snapped open just as Scott scrambled back to him with the bullet.

"Give it here," he murmured, snatching the bullet from Scott's hand and twisting it open, tipping the dried wolfsbane out onto the table then holding out his hand expectantly. I fished my lighter out of my pocket, handing it over to him and watching as he lit the small pile on fire. It lit up in flames for a moment, before they died away. He brushed the ashes into his hand, then after taking a deep breath to steady himself he pressed them into his wound. An agonised scream left his mouth and he held the ashes to the hole in his arm, collapsing to the ground. We all watched as the ugly black veins slowly faded, the hole closing up all by itself.

"That. Was. _Awesome_!" Stiles gasped as I stepped forwards, picking up my lighter and slipping it into my pocket. "Yes!"

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

"Except for the agonising pain?" he replied sarcastically, pushing himself into a sitting position.

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health."

"Okay, we saved your life!" Scott exclaimed tiredly. "Which means you're going to leave us along, you got that? And if you don't, I'm going to go back to Allison's dad and I'm going to tell him everything-"

Both Derek and I froze, glares hardening on our faces. "You're gonna trust them?" Derek asked quietly, controlled fury clear in his expression. "You think they can help you?"

"Why not?! They're a lot _freaking _nicer than either of you are!"

Derek's lips twitched downwards into a frown, and he looked back at Scott, his eyes flat. "I can show you exactly how nice they are."

"What do you mean?" Scott asked cautiously.

"You have to come with me," the older wolf said tensely, gesturing to the door.

"Don't do it Scott," Stiles muttered worriedly, shooting a glare at Derek. Scott looked between the beta wolf and his best friend, having a difficult time making a decision.

Finally he turned to face Stiles fully. "I have to find out what he knows, Stiles." He tried to smile, but the expression fell flat. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Derek led the way out, Scott trailing behind him, casting one last weary glance over his shoulder. Stiles and I were silent, staring through the doorway after them long after the bell above the front door had chimed as they left. After a long moment Stiles turned to me, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Do you-do you want a ride home?"

"I can walk," I replied coldly, brushing my hair off my face, turning on my heel and heading for the door.

"What I mean," he began loudly, catching my attention and making me pause. "Is you don't have to. Walk, that is."

I spun around, crossing my arms and fixing him with a suspicious look. "What do you want?" I asked angrily. "Is it information you're after? Names? Dates?"

"No," he shot back defensively. "All I'm doing is offering you a ride. Geez."

I narrowed my eyes at him, evaluating the look of innocence in his eyes and the steady beat of his heart. I didn't want to walk home, not with hunters roaming the town, so I begrudgingly took him up on his offer. I turned around, heading for the door and pausing when he didn't follow me. "Well?" I asked impatiently over my shoulder. "Are you coming or what?"

He blinked in surprise, nodding sloppily and rushing to my side. We filed out of the clinic, Stiles having the sense to lock the door and hide the key as we left. I climbed into his jeep, not bothering with the pretence of a seatbelt. The car rumbled to life beneath us and he edged it out of the parking lot and onto the main road. "So," Stiles began after a while, wisely keeping his eyes on the road. "If you didn't know Derek before you got to town, why did you come here? Were you looking for the alpha too?"

I pursed my lips, considering lying and saying yes. But I decided the truth was easier; the more you told the truth, the less you had to remember. "No," I admitted, turning in the passenger seat to stare at the side of his face. His heart picked up under my intense green stare, but he otherwise made no acknowledgement of my gaze. "I didn't come here for any specific reason. I just closed my eyes and pointed to a spot on a map."

"Huh," he responded, and I realised he must have been cold as he moved his hand to the controls in the centre, turning on the heat. "Your parents just let you pick where to move to like that?"

I didn't tense up, I'd stopped doing that after about a century. It didn't hurt as much anymore, though if I concentrated I could still feel the sting in my chest when I thought about them. "My parents are...long gone," I told him, peering out the window at the trees flying past.

"So, you live with like an aunt or something?" he assumed, taking a left into the industrial district to cut through the town, a shortcut to the part of town my suburb, and probably his, was in.

"It's just me now," I said dully, leaning forwards to press my forehead against the glass. I avoided taking a breath in, the boy's irresistible scent overwhelming me.

"What, so you're like emancipated?" he asked, finally glancing over at me for a brief moment before returning his eyes to the road.

"Something like that," I mumbled, my eyes flickering up to where the moon hung in the sky, glowing enchantingly.

I could practically hear the cogs turning in his brain, so I kept quiet and let him think. "How old are you?" he asked carefully after a long moment as he pulled into my street.

I was technically 203, physically 18 and legally 16. I had to give him the most believable, and most untrue answer for the sake of my secret. "I'm 16," I lied like it was second nature, and after all this time, it was.

"I don't-" he began, but I cut him off as he rolled to a stop in front of my house, cracking open my door and jumping to the ground. I slipped a cigarette from my pocket, moving my little blue lighter up to light it. I took a drag, closing my eyes and letting the taste of smoke in my mouth distract me as I turned around, picking up my bag from the floor of his jeep. "See you at school," Stiles said quietly.

"Yeah, whatever," I responded, letting the door swing shut before making my way up my path to my porch steps. As I cracked open my unlocked door, I glanced over my shoulder at the boy in the car that still sat idle in front of my house. I frowned, in another life I might have thought it was sweet that he was waiting for me to get inside safely before leaving. In another life.


	6. Listening

_Naive minds for naive lives,_

_We don't have nine lives,_

_Open your eyes_

_The only chance you get,_

_Is here tonight_

Listening – Tonight Alive

* * *

I walked into the school late that morning, having not woken up on time. I didn't mind, simply moving through the streets on my way toward the school. By the time I reached the looming building I had missed most of chemistry, but I didn't really care. I loathed Mr Harris more than I loathed any of the other pathetic teachers at that ridiculous school. I figured I might as well skip the whole class, sneak in during the gap between classes and make my way to french. So I leant against the wall near the entrance, pulling out a cigarette from my bag and lighting it, taking a long puff.

I was halfway through my stick when secretive giggles came from the doorway behind me, and I watched as Scott and Allison hurried out of the school, hand-in-hand. "Where are _you_ two off to?" I asked loudly, tilting my head against the bricks and smiling in amusement as they jumped, spinning around the face me with sheepish expressions.

"Juliet," Scott greeted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "What're you doing out here?"

"Smoko," I responded flippantly, nonchalantly flicking the ash off the end of my cigarette.

They glanced at each other, deflating as they realised they'd been caught. "We were just heading back inside," Allison sighed disappointedly, shooting me a smile that fell flat. They both turned to head back into the building, heads hung in defeat.

"Or you could just, you know, sneak off to your car and go wherever it is you were planning to go," I suggested with a smirk, taking a drag of smoke and blowing it from my lips in rings that got bigger the further they floated.

"You won't tell?" she asked hopefully, entire face lighting up. She reminded me of somebody, but I couldn't put my finger on who.

"I won't tell," I confirmed with another smirk, dropping what was left of my cigarette to the cement and stepping on it with my combat boot just as the bell rang from inside, signalling the change of period. They smiled gratefully but I waved them off, winking playfully before I disappeared into the school. I wandered through the hallways until I got to my locker, and by the time I got there the bell had rung again and the halls were quickly emptying.

I keyed in the combination – my late sister's birthday – and cracked it open, pulling my french textbook out and slipping it into my bag. Footsteps sounded behind me, and I detected a familiar, wet-dog scent that I now associated with irritation.

"Hello Derek," I drawled, letting my locker slam shut and turning around to face him, shoving my hands into the pockets of my black pea coat, tilting my head and peering at him closely. "Well?" I prompted impatiently when he didn't say anything, raising my eyebrows expectantly. "What do you want?"

"I want you to compel Jackson Whittemore to tell me what he saw during the attack at the video store last night," he told me flatly.

"I'm sorry," I said sarcastically, taking my hands from my pockets to cross my arms, face hardening into a glare. "Last I checked I wasn't your trained monkey."

He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms to mirror my stance, scowling at me darkly, though it didn't so much as make me shiver. To a vampire as old as me, he just wasn't scary. At all. "Can you _please_," he spat the word like it was a curse, "just compel him?"

I pursed my lips like I was considering his request, though I'd already made up my mind. "No," I finally told him bluntly, hitching my bag up higher on my shoulder and turning to head down the hall.

"What do you mean, _no_?" he asked with a confused frown.

"I _mean_, no," I dead-panned back over my shoulder as I kept walking. His footsteps picked up as he followed me down the hall. I rolled my eyes, wishing for patience as I slowed to a stop outside the library. "What?"

"I thought you were going to help me find the alpha."

"I am," I replied simply, turning to face him, letting him see my irritated scowl. "But right now I have French class."

He scoffed, "You hardly seem like the type to care about class. What is this, your fiftieth time going to high school?"

"Twenty-second," I responded sourly, narrowing my eyes at the handsome wolf. And that wasn't even counting my years at college. I'd had enough of talking to him. "Goodbye Derek."

Thankfully he didn't argue this time, just growling in annoyance and turning on his heel, heading for the locker rooms. I rolled my eyes as I walked into french class, that guy was such a tool.

LINEBREAK

I was walking to History when Stiles jumped out in front of me, grasping my shoulders with his large hands and dragging me to the side. I let him, not wanting to draw attention to myself by having him fall on his ass. I glared at him as he spoke. "Have you seen Scott? I've been looking for him all day and I can't find him anywhere. He also isn't answering my texts..." He finally seemed to notice my dangerous look and glanced down at his hands, awkwardly lifting them from my body and clenched them into fists as they dropped to his sides. "So, have you seen him?"

"Yes," I responded, pulling out a cigarette from my bag and lighting it up. I expected him to comment on it, but he just rolled his eyes and surged forwards, continuing to question me.

"Well, where the hell is he?"

"He's-"

"Hey!" a voice snapped, and of course it belonged to Mr Harris. I stared at him with a bored expression as he stalked towards me, rage painted on his face. "You can't smoke that in here!" He snatched the stick from my fingers, holding it out of my reach as though I were a child he was confiscating a toy off. "Detention after school, my classroom."

My lips twitched up humorously and he made the mistake of meeting my eyes. His expression fell flat, his pupils dilating and his blinking stopping. "I don't have to go to detention," I told him, my voice as sweet and smooth as honey.

"You don't have to go to detention," he repeated, his voice dull and droning.

"Now," I said, tilting my head and drawing him deeper into my trap. "Give it back." He handed the cigarette over without a word, and I took it from him, taking a deep drag without breaking eye contact. Finally I blinked, releasing him from my hold. He shook his head, looking around confusedly. I leaned back against the lockers, flicking the ash from the tip. "Go away," I told him sternly, and with a befuddled frown he spun on his heel and headed down the hallway.

"That...was..._amazing_," Stiles gasped, looking between me and the teacher's retreating back. "I didn't know you could do that. Though I suppose it makes sense, I have read lore that says..." he trailed off, eyes glassy as he stared off into the distance, not really _seeing_ anything.

"Yes?" I prompted, taking in another lungful of chemicals.

He blinked back to reality, heart pumping faster in his chest. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter." I shrugged in response, adjusting the strap on my bag. "Can you do that to change my chemistry grade?"

"Yes."

"Will you?"

"No."

He deflated, scrunching his nose up at me childishly. I chortled, rolling my eyes and starting down the hall. He followed me, and surprisingly I didn't find myself irritated by his accompanying footsteps and minty/chocolatey scent. "Did you hear about the attack last night? The one on Lydia and Jackson?" I hummed affirmatively, holding my breath to keep the smoke in for an extra moment before releasing it through pinched lips. "Think it was the alpha?"

"I know it was," I replied as the bell rang overhead and students scurried into classrooms. Neither of us made any hurry to get to our own classes, merely strolling down the hall leisurely.

"How?"

I looked at him like he was stupid. "Well I know it wasn't me, or Scott, or Derek," I said slowly like I was talking to a pre-schooler. "So that leaves..."

"The alpha," he finished, nodding his head. "Have you seen Lydia today?" he asked, his eyes lighting up at the mention of the girl. "Jackson's here but she isn't."

"I barely know what the girl looks like," I retorted with a scoff. "So I definitely wouldn't have noticed seeing her in class."

"Well I was thinking of going to her house, seeing if she's okay."

"Be sure to send her my well-wishes," I said sarcastically, pasting a large – and completely fake – toothy grin on my face. Stiles smirked down at me with amusement, though I don't know what I said that was funny. It was meant to sound scathing. I'd have to work on sounding meaner. "This is my stop," I told him offhandedly as we passed the world history classroom."Try giving Scott a call again. I'm sure if you pester him enough he'll answer."

"Yeah, I will," he nodded. I clicked my tongue, nodding at him once slightly awkwardly before turning around and stepping into my class, not bothering with a farewell. As I moved over to a vacant seat, I listened to the sound of him pause for a moment, before spinning around and heading back down the hall the way we'd come.

The rest of the day was pretty quiet. I barely paid attention in class, and actually decided to work on one of my assignments during lunch out of sheer boredom.

I thought I'd fulfilled my Stiles quota for the day, so when he rang me shortly after school had ended I was surprised. "Yes?" I answered the call, halfway through the forest on my long walk home.

"I need your help," he said seriously, sounding anxious.

"I'm not compelling Mr Harris so he has good things to say at the parent-teacher conference tonight," I told him firmly, stepping up over a fallen tree. "You got your ass in this mess, now buck up and face the music."

"What-no," he responded, sounding slightly offended. "Listen, I found something on Lydia's phone."

I paused mid-step, frowning suspiciously. "If you're about to say something dirty I swear-"

"She has footage of the alpha."

I stopped dead, blinking at the trunk of the tree in front of me. "She _what_?"

"Listen, you weren't my first call, but Scott isn't answering his phone. So could you please just come over and help me decide what to do?"

I hesitated. I didn't exactly feel like wandering into this kid's house, especially when I knew I'd be completely immersed in his delicious scent. But I knew this was important, and it wasn't like I had any plans other than to watch crappy old science-fiction movies and drink some heated up blood. I sighed, running a hand through my midnight locks. "Where do you live?" I asked, listening as he rattled off his address. "I'll be there in five."

I hung up before he could comment at all, turning no my heel and taking off back the way I'd come. I had no idea where his street was, and my phone was so old it didn't have those fancy GPS systems that everyone had these days, so I headed into a convenience store to ask for directions. I got to Stile's house in just under five minutes, as promised, and I knocked on the front door loudly, not sure what his little human ears could and couldn't hear. I heard clumsy, uneven steps practically run down the stairs inside and race towards the door. He pulled it open, relief spread across his face at the sight of me. Something in my stomach clenched, it'd been a long time since anyone had been _relieved _to see me. My presence usually evoked the opposite reaction.

"Hey," he greeted me, pulling open the door wider and stepping back, waiting for me to pass through. I paused, pressing my lips together awkwardly. I couldn't get in without an invitation, but if I told him that I'd have to admit to being a vampire, which I wasn't sure I was ready to do.

His brow furrowed with confusion as he watched me, eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Uh, can I..."

"Of course." He nodded, stepping back even further, then deliberately saying, "Come in, Juliet."

I pressed my foot against the barrier, trying not to sag with relief when it pushed passed the threshold with zero resistance. I stepped through the doorway, letting him close the door behind me before letting him lead me up to his room. On the way up I peeked at the photo's on the walls, my lips twitching as I caught sight of what could only be a baby-Stiles. One in particular made me smile, Stiles sitting in one of those car rides at the mall, a large grin on his face showing his two front teeth missing.

I stepped into his room, pretending not to notice as he inconspicuously kicked a pile of dirty laundry under his bed. I looked around the room, taking in the organised chaos of his desk and the band posters strung around the room. I liked his taste in music, though I wasn't familiar with most of them. The only music I really enjoyed listening to was from the fifties. He gestured for me to take a seat on the end of his bed and I did so hesitantly, trying to breathe through my mouth without being weird about it so I wouldn't get overwhelmed by his scent. I dropped my bag at my feet, taking the cell phone he offered me then stared at it confusedly. What was I supposed to do with it?

He laughed, though the sound was tense and nervous, and took it back, clicking some buttons with practised ease and then handing it back. I watched the little screen as the video played; the lights flickered and then there was the shattering of glass before a large black shape dove towards the camera, the only discernible features it's glistening white fangs and it's glowing red eyes.

"Hm," I hummed, handing back the phone and folding my hands together, staring down at them thoughtfully.

"Well?" he asked, sounding desperate for my input. "What do we do?"

"Delete it," I said immediately, staring up at him like he was an idiot. "Obviously."

"Are-are you sure?"

I paused, _was _I sure? I scowled, I didn't like having to reevaluate my answer. "Well, yeah..." I pressed my lips together, then shuffled back on the bed until my back hit the headboard, tapping my head against the wood. "I think so. I mean, what else are we going to do with it?"

"Yeah," he nodded, brows pulled together as he thought.

"And the longer you leave deleting it, the more chance there is for somebody to find it. Then we're _all_ in trouble," I told him seriously, trying not to think about the serious threat the hunters posed to me. One hunter? Two? Not a problem. But if the other week at the gas station was anything to go by, the Argent's had brought some friends into town with them. Not to mention papa-Argent's psychopathic sister was in town. Derek hadn't told me much about her, just that she was ruthless and dangerous. I'd laughed when he'd told me, saying it wouldn't be a problem. Then again, the only real thing keeping me safe was that everyone in town was operating under the assumption I was a werewolf, if that changed who knew which direction things could go.

"I'm calling Scott again," he announced after a long silence, tapping away at his phone then holding it up to his ear. "Hey, it's me again. Look, I found something and I don't know what to do, okay? So if you could turn your phone on, right now, that'd be great. Or else? I'll kill you. Do you understand me? I'm gonna kill you. And I'm too upset to come up with a witty description about how exactly I'm going to kill you, but I'm just gonna do it. Okay? Ugh. Goodbye," he grunted into the phone.

I couldn't help the genuine laugh that bubbled up and spilled passed my lips as I listened to his message. Hearing a human so young and harmless threatening somebody's life like that, well to a monster like me it seemed downright hilarious. I tipped my head back, letting myself enjoy the humorous moment for a beat. When I focused my attention back on Stiles, he was staring at me with an odd expression on his face. "What?" I asked self-consciously, blinking at him vulnerably.

"I've just never seen you laugh like that before," he said quietly. "I didn't even know you _could_ laugh like that."

I wanted to be irritated by his words, but something in my chest warmed with the way he was staring at me; like I wasn't a blood-sucking demon.

Footsteps sounded from down the hall as Stiles continued to watch me. I briefly considered compelling him to tell me what he was thinking, but ultimately decided against it when an older man – one from the photos – peeked his head around the corner and knocked on the door. Stiles gasped, jumping in shock and holding a hand to his heart. I stared up at the man passively, he was the sheriff, and obviously his father. "Hello," he said somewhat awkwardly, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans and smiling welcomingly. "I wasn't expecting Stiles to have company."

"Dad, this is Juliet," the boy in question introduced us, collapsing in his desk chair and swinging on it to occupy himself. "She's a...friend from school."

"Good afternoon, Sheriff," I greeted him, bowing my head in respect and arranging my lips into an award-winning smile – the one that dazzled people into giving me what I wanted.

"Please," he said with an easy grin. "When I'm not on duty it's just John."

"John," I repeated, crossing my legs indian-style and sitting up straighter on Stiles' bed.

"Are you new to town?" he asked politely, leaning against the doorframe. "I haven't seen you around before. Who're your parents?"

I paused, pursing my lips, my eyes darting to Stiles as I remembered what he'd assumed the other week in the car. "Oh, I'm emancipated. I live on my own in the old Miller house."

"Wow, emancipated," he said, crossing his arms and frowning as he watched me. "Why is that?"

"Gee dad, don't you think that's a little personal?" Stiles spoke up, and I felt grateful towards him for a moment before I buried it, not in the mood for those kinds of feelings.

"You're right," the older man said, smiling and ducking his head sheepishly before turning his attention to his son. "And _you_, please tell me I'm going to hear good news at this parent-teacher thing tonight."

"Depends on how you define good news."

"I define it as you getting straight A's with no behavioural issues."

"You might wanna rethink that definition," Stiles replied, and I bit my lip to smother another laugh.

"Enough said," John sighed, tapping his legs with a sense of finality. "It was nice to meet you Juliet," he said to me as he turned to me. "Stay out of trouble."

"Will do John!"

We waited until John's footsteps had faded and the front door had clicked shut before either of us spoke. "I wish Scott would just answer his damn phone," he sighed, running a hand over his short hair. I leaned back, staring up at the roof and ignoring the flare of white hot heat in my throat as I breathed in his heavenly scent. I clenched my hands into fists, my sharp nails biting into the skin on my palms as I fought the urge to attack him, or at least do something I'd regret.

"We need to make a decision," I said, mostly just to distract myself. I got to my feet, distancing myself from his bed; the thing his scent clung to most out of the room. "We can't keep wasting time."

"You're right," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut tight. After a long, tense moment his arm shot out and he snatched the phone off the desk. I walked over so I stood behind him, watching over his shoulder as he clicked several buttons, until finally the screen flashed with a notification.

_Items deleted._

I nodded, "You made the right call." Stiles sighed, clearly unsure. He seemed to make an internal decision to put it out of his mind, swinging around the face me, his expression curious. "What?" I asked hesitantly, knowing I was about to be bombarded with questions.

"I've been looking into something recently, and I could use your input," he said, pushing himself to his feet and moving over to his bottom desk drawer, which he tugged open, pulling out the papers on top until he dug out a specific folder. He presented it to me, watching my reaction closely. I took it, walking backwards until my legs hit his bed, and I let myself fall back onto it, glancing up at him with raised brows. "You've heard about the Hale fire, right?"

"Everyone in the supernatural community has," I responded immediately, focusing on the feeling of the paper under my skin instead of the mouthwatering aroma coming from where he stood, only feet away from me. He turned and took a seat on the edge of the bed beside me, leaning over me to read the papers as I pulled them out.

"Really?" he asked as I tugged out the top paper, my keen eyes reading it with a simple glance before I moved on to the next one.

"Yeah," I nodded. "The Hale family was a huge deal back when they were still around. They were one of the most powerful packs in North America." I looked away from the papers and up at him, blinking as I realised he was was close I could smell his minty breath. He flinched back when he realised it to. "Why are you so interested?"

"Well, I think the hunters were the ones who burnt the house down," he said with a shrug. "But I can't know for sure. I figured you might see something I didn't."

I didn't reply, continuing to read the report he'd no doubt stolen from his father. He leaned forwards again, his chest brushing my arm. I felt the heat of his body and the pulse of his heart through the thin fabric and tensed, hunger surging through me. "I have to leave," I announced suddenly, standing to my feet and dropping the file where I'd been sitting.

"What? Did you find something?" he asked eagerly.

"No, I just have a prior engagement."

"A _prior engagement_?" he asked with an exasperated frown. "Nobody speaks like that anymore."

I picked up my bag, slung it over my body and headed for the door. "I just really need to leave, Stiles," I said seriously, my voice leaving no room for argument. He opened his mouth, no doubt to try and argue, but I cut him off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He nodded his head reluctantly, then blinked. By the time he'd opened his eyes, I was gone.


	7. Runaways

_They won't catch us_

_In the dark_

_Roll like thunder  
Burn like stars_

_Runaways – All Time Low_

* * *

Stiles' dad was hit by a car.

I knew this because the day after it happened he cornered me at school and proceeded to rant about it and tell me all about how it was all Scott's fault. I hadn't really listened, I'd been sketching on my favourite notepad at the time, however I knew that he wasn't too badly hurt but that Stiles still held it against Scott.

The few days after that were taxing as hell. Stiles wouldn't leave me alone. He stuck to me like a mosquito, constantly buzzing in my ear and using me as a way to avoid his best friend. No matter what rude names I called him, or how snappy and cruel I was, he wouldn't go away. Everything I said just seemed to roll off his back, like nothing affected him. It was annoying, but over the course of those few days I realised it was kind of nice to have company. People usually gave me a wide berth, because I was mean and intimidating and, let's face it, scary. So it was definitely a change to have somebody willingly sit with me at lunch.

It wasn't only Stiles that had taken a weird shining to me. Allison was also strangely kind, smiling at me in the halls and striking up conversations with me in the classes we shared together. She even approached Stiles and I at lunch one day, sitting down to chat with me for a moment. I didn't give her much to work with, keeping my answers short and clipped, hoping she'd take the hint and go away.

"_I've been researching my family history recently. Did you know I have an ancestor named Juliet?_" she'd said with a kind smile.

"_Fascinating_," I'd drawled in response, continuing to sketch the mountain range I was attempting to recreate from memory.

I was brought back to the present when Stiles found me outside, leaning against the side of the building, smoking a cigarette. "Hey," he said, and I rolled my eyes, not bothering to respond as I blew smoke rings from my mouth idly. "So, listen...I need a favour."

"No," I dead-panned, glancing up at the sun beating down on me, instinctively glancing to my daylight ring, the only thing between me and incineration.

"You don't even know what it is," he complained, gesturing wildly with his arms like he so often did.

"And yet, my answer's still no."

"Look," he began, moving to stand in front of me. Before he could continue I blew a mouthful of smoke directly in his face. He coughed and waved his hand in the air in front of him, cringing at the smell and the burning in his eyes. "Hey! Secondhand smoke kills, you know."

My lips twitched up into a wicked smirk. "I'm counting on it."

He glared as darkly as he could, which honestly wasn't very, and crossed his arms, beginning his pitch again. "Listen, all I need is for you to go do that hypnosis thing on coach and get his phone off of him."

"Why?" I questioned suspiciously. He hesitated like he was reluctant to tell me. "Aw, come on," I prodded him playfully. "We just spent the last four days bonding and now you're not gonna tell me why you wanna borrow my compulsive powers?"

"I'm teaching Scott how to control the shift," he admitted, rubbing the spot on his chest I'd poked.

I paused, raising an eyebrow at him. "What the hell makes you think you're qualified to do that?" I asked carefully, taking a long drag of smoke.

"Better me do it than Derek," he snorted.

"So what is this brilliant plan and why does it involve coach's phone?" I asked, dropping the end of the cigarette on the ground and stamping on it with my converse.

"I'm going to take one of the heart monitors the track team uses to monitor Scott's heart rate while I throw lacrosse balls at him, but the monitors are linked to coach's phone."

I appraised him quietly for a moment, secretly impressed by the plan. He took what resources he had and came up with a slightly brilliant plan. Finally I nodded, pleased by the way his face lit up with glee. "I'll do it _if_," I said, and he paused, raising an eyebrow, no doubt worried I was going to make him do something terrible. "_If_ I get to throw lacrosse balls at Scott too."

"Deal!" he agreed immediately, reaching out a hand for me to shake. I looked down at it like it was going to bite me, but he didn't back down, holding it out with a dopey grin. I sighed and slapped my hand into his, clenching lightly so I wouldn't crush his bones and shaking for a moment before pulling away, trying not to think about how I could feel his blood pulsing under his skin.

He led me through the school towards coach's office, pushing me into the room while he scurried off to look for the heart monitors. "Can I help you?" the older man with a receding hairline asked me sassily.

I wasn't in the mood for games, so I simply stalked towards him, locking eyes and drawing him into my hold. "You're going to give me your phone without asking questions, then forget I was ever here. And you're not going to look for it," I compelled him. He repeated my instructions back to me, and I blinked when I was satisfied it had worked. He wordlessly handed over his sleek black phone and I gave him a mock salute, spinning around and meeting Stiles at the locker room door.

We held up what we'd retrieved, smirking at each other gladly. We made our way towards the lacrosse field where Stiles said he was meeting Scott. "So you've forgiven him then?" I asked, shoving the phone in my back pocket and sliding my hands into the large pocket on the front of my Harvard hoodie.

"No," he answered immediately, scowling at the mere thought. "It's going to take a lot more than a simple apology to get him back in my good graces."

I nodded, "Make him work for it."

"Exactly," he grinned toothily. My lips twitched, something in me wanting to return the gesture. But I smothered it, fixing a cool stare on my features.

"Juliet," Scott greeted, standing from the bench he was parked on and looking down at me in surprise. "I didn't know _you_ were coming too."

"She's part of the plan," Stiles told him without hesitation, leading the boy past the bleachers towards the field. "Now...put this on," he instructed as he took a seat on one of the benches, holding up the monitor.

"Isn't this one of the heart rate monitors for the track team?" Scott asked dubiously.

"Yeah, I borrowed it," Stiles replied with a shrug.

"Stole it?"

I threw one leg over the bench so that I was straddling it facing Stiles as I listened to their conversation. "Temporarily misappropriated," he corrected irritably. "Coach uses it to monitor his heart rate with his phone while he jogs. And you're gonna wear it for the rest of the day."

I slipped the phone from my pocket, holding it up in the light for him to see. "Isn't that coaches phone?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at us.

Stiles paused for a brief moment before pasting a proud grin on his face and saying, "That, I stole."

I frowned confusedly at the boy. I was expecting him to tell his friend that I'd compelled it off coach, and I opened my mouth to tell him so when a look from Stiles stopped me. I suddenly understood, Stiles hadn't told Scott he knew I could compel people. My brows furrowed in bewilderment as I tried to make sense of it all in my head. What did that mean? Why hadn't he told Scott?

"Why?" Scott asked, none the wiser.

"Well your heart rate goes up when you go wolf, right?" he began steadily. "When you're playing lacrosse, when you're with Allison, whenever you get angry. Maybe learning to control it is tied to learning to control your heart rate."

"Like the Incredible Hulk," Scott said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Kinda like the Incredible Hulk," Stiles allowed with a shrug.

"Nah, I'm like the Incredible Hulk," Scott repeated, a full blown grin on his face.

"Just shut up and put the strap on."

While he was attaching it to his body, the teen wolf looked down at me where I sat quietly straddling the bench. "Is he right? About the heart rate thing?"

I pursed my lips. "Well I'm no expert, but it certainly makes sense," I shrugged, wincing as the sun broke the clouds and hit me directly in the face, sending pain searing through my skull. I blinked, pressing my fingers to my temple as I winced. After a moment the sun disappeared behind clouds again and the pain faded. I felt eyes on me and turned my gaze to Stiles who was staring at me like I was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

"How could you _not _be an expert?" Scott asked with a confused frown.

I snapped my eyes up to meet his with was I hoped was an irritated looking glare. "It's not an exact science, Scott."

"Okay," he said in an effort to keep the peace. He tilted his head to the side and his eyes suddenly widened in alarm. He stared at me with something like terror in his gaze. I looked down at myself confusedly, wondering if I'd maybe spilt blood on me during breakfast that morning.

"What?" I asked self-consciously, blinking at the clean grey sweater with a frown.

"I-I left my drink bottle over by the bench, can you p-please go get it?" he stumbled over his words, staring at me like I was a freaking ghost or something.

"Why can't Stiles go get it?"

The boy in question seemed to see something I didn't, because he nodded hastily, "No, I've gotta duck-tape his arms. Just do it." He paused, noticed my dangerous glare. "Please?"

I huffed but did as they asked, pushing myself to my feet and moving passed the bleachers towards the bench Scott had been sitting on only minutes ago. I walked steadily away from them, but continued to listen to them talk as easily as if I were standing right there. They whispered between themselves, obviously assuming I wasn't listening. "Dude," Scott hissed in a panic. "Stiles, she has _no heartbeat._"

The was a pause, then Stiles said without a hint of surprise, "I have a theory, but I have to research it more before I present it. Give me a few more days, then I'll talk to you and we can confront her."

I picked up the small water bottle resting on the leg of the bench. It was just a cheap little thing, and it irritated me that they sent me to get it so they could whisper behind my back. As I walked back towards them I couldn't help but wonder what Stiles' theory was. Did he know what I was? I thought back to all the secret little looks he gave me, like he was slowly figuring me out. He didn't know for certain, so I clung to that hope that he wouldn't ever have it confirmed as I met them back on the field, setting down the bottle as I watched Stiles tape Scott's arms together behind his back, both acting like nothing happened.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my free period," he said pointedly, glancing over his shoulder at his friend.

"Alright, ready?"

"No."

"Remember: don't get angry," Stile warned, leaning down to tap away at coach's phone, activating the monitor.

"I'm starting to think this is a really bad idea."

Stiles tipped out the little white balls onto the field, picking up his crosse and scooping one into it's little net. He tossed it unceremoniously at Scott, and it hit the boy in the leg. He cried out in pain, snatching up another one, this time hitting his face. "My turn," I grinned wickedly, and he smirked, holding out the stick for me to take. "So, uh," I began awkwardly, biting my lip and looking down at the crosse in my hands. "How exactly do I...you know...do this?"

He laughed lightly, but not in a mocking way, so luckily for him he got to keep his voice box. He pressed his hand over my right one that was clenched around the stick, using it to guide me as he scooped up another one of the balls. He gave me a quick and simple run through of how to aim and shoot. I nodded and did as he instructed, frowning when the ball flew out of the net about ten feet away from Scott. I tried again, this time getting a little closer but still not landing a hit.

With a frustrated groan I dropped the stick, bending down to pick up one of the balls. I tossed it up and down for a moment, getting used to the weight. Scott's humoured expression fell from his face as he saw me tense, preparing to let it fly. "Not too hard!" he begged, but I didn't listen. I wasn't going to waste such a golden opportunity. I let it fly with some of my extra vampire strength, the ball practically disappearing it moved so fast. A split second later it connected with his chest and the boy fell back, yelping in pain. I smirked proudly, stepping aside and letting Stiles have another few throws.

We alternated between throws, chuckling at Scott's pain – Stiles, because he was angry at his friend for what happened to his father; me, because as sick as it was, I enjoyed inflicting pain on others – and after a long while Stiles turned to me, a mischievous grin on his face as he scooped up a ball, plucking it from the net and handing it to me. "As hard as you can."

"As hard as I can?" I asked doubtfully, squeezing the ball in my grasp. "I'll break something."

He shrugged, "He'll heal."

I smirked, who knew that Stiles could be so fun? I turned to face Scott, who was wincing already, tensing in preparation of my throw. I tossed it in the air, caught it then hurled it at Scott with all my strength. The ball disappeared, reappearing a split second later as it crashed into his chest. I heard the distinct cracking of bones and grinned, the expression melting into a frown when the wolf collapsed, groaning in pain, breathing heavily.

We watched as he ripped open his bindings, and Stiles ducked down to pick up the beeping phone. "Scott?" he asked tentatively as the boy's back bent at what looked like a painful angle. I tensed, preparing for a fight. Then something miraculous happened, he slowly but surely began to calm down. "Scott? You started to change," Stiles said worriedly, moving closer to his friend, who was panting on the ground.

"Anger...it was more than that," he breathed, wincing as he pressed a hand to his ribs. "The angrier I got, the stronger I felt."

"So it _is _anger then. Derek's right."

"I can't be around Allison," he said with a pained frown. I rolled my eyes, this kid needed to sort out his priorities.

"Just because she makes you happy?" Stiles asked doubtfully.

"No, because she makes me weak."

* * *

I strolled down the hall during my free period, on my way outside so I could have a cigarette without anyone telling me off. As I turned down a hallway, I picked up on the sound of a heartbeat racing in someone's chest. I looked down the hall, narrowing my eyes as I saw that Jackson kid leaning over Allison. "So," he began, voice slow and deliberate and kind of of creepy as Allison leaned away from him uncomfortably. "What are you reading?"

I was by their side in the blink of an eye, grasping the collar of Jackson's shirt and yanking him to his feet. "Hey," I barked, slamming him against the lockers before letting him go, wiping the his sweat off on my jeans. "Back off, creep," I hissed, glancing down at a wide-eyed Allison.

"We were just talking," he defended as Allison scrambled to her feet.

"Really Juliet, it's fine."

Her heartbeat said otherwise, but I let it go, stepping back and frowning to myself. Why did I care again? I took a deep breath, allowing a casual smirk to spread on my lips. I had a thing about dickhead boys leering over innocent girls. "Watch yourself," I warned him with an evil grin. His heart stuttered at the dangerous gleam in my eyes, but he otherwise kept composed, showing no outward signs of fear. I let him go with a flick, glaring at him with smug distaste. I nodded respectfully at Allison, trying not to think about how scared she looked. I hadn't wanted to frighten her, I'd simply wanted to threaten Jackson and be on my way.

I pushed my way out into the sun, sliding down the wall around the corner from the door and pulling out a book and a cigarette, lighting the latter and cracking open the former.

It was peaceful for a long time as I just read, not interested in being in class. There was a group of boys to my left standing around, making jokes and playfully shoving each other but I ignored them easily enough. It wasn't until I detected the familiar aroma of mint and chocolate that I snapped my head up, watching Stiles and Scott walk past without noticing me. "What are we doing?" Scott asked cautiously.

"You'll see, hold on," Stiles told him quietly as I watched on with interest. "Okay, stand right there. Do you have your keys? Perfect, hold them up...like...so..." The boy left his friend standing there, glancing over his shoulder. "Now, whatever happens just think about Allison. Try to find her voice like you did at the game. Got it?"

I closed my book, gently sliding it into my bag before pushing myself to my feet. My eyebrows shot up with amusement as the boy wandered over to a parked car casually, tugging out his own keys and pressing them to the paint, creating a long scratch on the metal. I chuckled, crossing my arms and watching the events unfold.

"Hey, hey, hey! Dude, what do you think you're doing to that truck, bro?!" he yelled loudly and obviously. I pressed my hand over my lips to keep my laughs from getting too loud.

"What the hell?" one of the members of the group to my left asked, outraged as he spied Scott standing with his keys in his hand. I watched as he landed a punch on the shocked wolf's face, sending his falling back into the dirt.

I wandered over to Stiles with a grin, the boy wincing in sympathy for his friend as he watched the group of guys beat him up. "Stay calm, stay calm," he breathed as he looked on, and I noticed he held the heart monitor in his hand, keeping an eye on Scott's pulse.

"Your ideas just keep getting better and better," I said, my voice coloured with humour. Stiles jumped violently, not having seen me approach. He rolled his eyes at me, both of us turning our attention to the boy being savagely beaten before us. It took awhile, but eventually the beeping of the monitor decreased along with Scott's heartbeat. Mr Harris came speed walking out of the doors, making a beeline for the boy lay bleeding on the concrete.

Stiles fist-pumped the air in victory and I rolled my eyes, secretly kind of impressed. "What the hell do you idiots think you're doing?!" he exclaimed, wheeling around to glare at Stiles and I accusingly. "With me, for detention. Now." I rolled my eyes, nodding my head at Stiles and strolling passed the teacher, towards the boundary of the school. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked sharply.

I sighed, turning around and locking eyes with the rude man. "I'm going home, and you're not going to stop me."

"I'm not going to stop you," he repeated robotically, pupils dilating behind those pathetic glasses of his.

"Hey!" Stiles called out to me. "What about us?"

"Not my problem!" I replied over my shoulder. I ignored the boy's irritated grunt, shifting the weight of my bag on my shoulder and turning to corner. I hadn't gotten far when I got a phone call. "Hello?" I answered dully.

"I need you to meet me at the animal clinic," Derek's voice dead-panned.

I paused, frowning at my shoes in annoyance. "How the hell did you get this number?" I questioned icily.

"I think I know who the alpha is."

I didn't respond immediately, weighing my choices. I could go to the clinic and do my part, or I could go home and curl up in front of my old TV. I knew which one I wanted to do, and I knew which one I _knew _I should do. So with a heavy sigh, I mumbled into the phone, "I'll be there in ten minutes."

I went home first, dropping off my bag and pulling on a looser pair of jeans, ones I would be able to fight in, as well as an old white T-shirt. I pulled my best set of daggers out from the box under my sink, strapping one to each ankle then shoving two into my belt. I shrugged on an old leather jacket I'd gotten off one of my victims in the 70's, one that covered my knives and after making sure my hair was down for camouflage reasons, I left my house. I took the route through the forest, knowing I'd be more free to go faster there.

I got to the clinic a little earlier than I anticipated, pushing open the door just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. "Derek?" I asked loudly, frowning at the noise the little bell above the door made.

"In here," his voice rumbled from the back room. I weaved past the front desk, stepping into the back room I'd been in once before; when Derek got hit by that bullet only a week or so ago. I blinked in surprise as I caught sight of who I could only assume was the veterinarian, tied to a chair, bound and beaten. I raised my eyebrows, but ultimately just went with it. He obviously had good reason to believe he was the alpha. I cracked my knuckles, grinning in anticipation for a fight.

"Well what do we have here?" I asked with a predatory grin as I stared down at the unconscious man.

"It's him," Derek told me, arms crossed and he leant against the far wall, watching the dark skinned man for any signs of awareness. "I'm sure of it."

"What's the plan?" I inquired, mirroring his stance. "I won't kill him without irrefutable proof."

He snorted, lips quirking up like what I said was in any way funny. "That's not something you hear every day," he mumbled, light eyes focused on the man in the chair. "A vampire not eager to kill."

"Hey," I snapped with a frown. "I'm totally eager to kill. I just don't want to kill an innocent."

"Every vampire I've met before hasn't had a problem with it."

"Well _I do_," I responded darkly. I sniffed the air, the monster deep within me rearing it's ugly head at the scent of human blood. My eyes shot to the deep gash on the vet's face and hunger surged through me. "I don't think he's the guy."

"Why not?" he asked defensively, brows pulling together in a frown.

"Because he smells appetising, and I've never met a single wolf whose scent hasn't made me want to vomit," I told him with a shrug.

He held up his hands, silently telling me to drop it as the man before us groaned, slowly coming to.

"Oh God."

"Are you protecting someone?"

"Alright, the key to the drug locker is in my pocket," he told us desperately.

"I don't want drugs, I wanna know why you're lying."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Derek spun the man around, lifting him in the air with ease.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know who you are. Or who you're protecting."

"What are you doing?" Scott asked loudly, appearing in the doorway. I'd been so focused on the interrogation at hand I hadn't noticed him approach.

"Scott, get outta here!" he yelled back to the teen wolf as Derek dropped him, striking him across the face unforgivingly.

"Stop!" Scott begged, stepping in between them.

"When he's conscious he can keep himself from healing, but unconscious he can't."

"Are you out of your mind?! What are you talking about?!"

"You wanna know what the spiral means, Scott?" Derek growled. "It's our sign for a vendetta. For revenge. It means he won't stop killing until he's satisfied!"

"You think he's the alpha?" Scott asked incredulously.

"We're about to find out."

Scott caught his hand before he could inflict any damage. We both stared in shock as he changed from boy to wolf so smoothly that I almost missed it. Derek took a step back and watched closely as he looked down at his claws. They slowly but surely melted back into his regular fingernails, and the hair along his jaw vanished, his eyes glowing a brilliant amber.

"Hit him again, then you'll see me get angry."

* * *

"No," Derek dead-panned as I moved to put my feet up on his dash, I mock-pouted but he just ignored me, steering his sleek black car into school parking lot, empty except for Stiles' jeep. The vet tied up on the backseat mumbled into his bindings but I paid him no mind, eyes flickering through the darkness to meet Stiles' impatient stare as he toyed with the pair of bolt cutters in his hands. The car rolled to a stop and I slid out, quickly checking my daggers were still in place before I crossed my arms, trying to conjure an air of indifference.

"Where's my boss?" Scott asked testily as Derek slid out after me.

"He's in the back."

The two young boys peeked their heads through the open back window, peering down at the unconscious veterinarian. "Aw, he looks comfortable," Stiles said sarcastically, shooting me a pointed look. I ignored it, letting my eyes scan the area naturally, keeping an eye out for any threats.

Scott nudged his friend, gesturing to the school as they both turned towards the looming building. "Hey, what are you doing?" Derek asked in annoyance.

"You said I was linked with the alpha," Scott said like it was obvious. "I'm gonna see if you're right."

They headed confidently into the school while Derek and I watched with raised eyebrows. "Why don't they trust me?" Derek asked unexpectedly, peering after them through the shadows.

"Uh, maybe because you're creepy as fuck?" I asked rhetorically, leaning my weight against his car and staring up at the moon.

He grunted, irritated by my response. "You're a vampire. You're the _definition _of creepy," he retorted sassily, narrowing his light eyes at me. I pursed my lips but decided not to comment. He had a point. People were naturally repelled by me. In basic terms? I gave them the hebe-jeebies.

We were quiet, not sure what we were waiting for until it happened. A loud, squeaking screech sounded through the school. I winced, it sounded like a dying cat. "You've gotta be kidding me," Derek muttered tiredly, dropping his head.

"That literally could _not _have been any worse," I muttered, looking down at the pavement and kicking at a loose pebble. There was another pause and I assumed the boys were making their way back. Then something crazy happened. A low growl, kind of a howl that vibrated through my very soul sounded through the school's speaker. We both shot up. Derek looking around worriedly for the alpha, me because when a vampire heard that noise our instinct was to run in the opposite direction. I shoved it down, focusing on what was happening in front of me.

"I'm gonna kill _both_ of you," Derek snarled as they strolled down the stairs, looking mighty pleased with themselves. "What the hell was that? What are you trying to do? Attract the entire state to the school?"

"Sorry, I didn't know it'd be that loud," Scott muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Heh, it was loud," Stiles chuckled. "And it was _awesome_," he sang, a large dopey grin on his innocent face. Something in me warmed, but I clenched my teeth together and ignored it. Now wasn't the time for sentimentality.

"Shut up," Derek snapped, and I stood up properly. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and reached around my back, sliding one of the two daggers I'd hidden there from it's sheath.

"Don't be such a sour wolf-_why the hell do you have a knife_?!" he shouted, jerking back as the silver blade glinted in the moonlight.

"It's a dagger," I corrected sharply.

"It's a hazard," he retorted.

"What'd you do with him?" Scott asked suddenly, breaking Stiles and I from our mini-standoff.

"What?" Derek and I asked at the same time, glancing behind us in disbelief as we realised the vet was gone. We blinked at the empty seat. When had that happened? "We didn't do anything."

I heard the sound of paws on the ground and dove out of the way just as the alpha attacked, shoving his claws brutally through the wolf's chest. Blood spurted from his mouth, the scent surrounding me. I had to get away from the alpha, but just as I turned to run I realised the boys were still standing there. Part of me screamed to leave them to die, but I knew in my cold, dead, un-beating heart that I couldn't do that. "Inside," I yelled at them, disappearing from their sight and reappearing near the doors to the school. They scrambled towards the entrance, falling over themselves in an attempt to get there. They sprinted inside and I slammed the doors shut after them, dread filling my stomach as I realised I had nothing to lock it with.


	8. L'il Red Riding Hood

**A/N: Hey guys, I know you haven't heard much from me during this story so I thought I'd pop in to say hi. I'm glad people are liking this story, and there is only more and more to come. I will be doing every season, and I have all of it planned. I think you're going to love it. Big chapter, I think it may even be the longest. Packed full of plot, and something I know some of you have been waiting for. Enjoy :)**

**PS. In coming chapters, there will be a bit of a crossover with the show my character's mythology comes from, _The Vampire Diaries. _If you don't watch the show, don't fear, you don't have to see it to understand.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, nothing is my own except Juliet.**

* * *

_What big eyes you have_

_The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad_

_Just to see that you don't get chased_

_I think I oughta walk with you for a ways_

Amanda Seyfried – L'il Red Riding Hood

* * *

"Lock it!" Scott yelled frantically, scrambling to hold the doors shut. "Lock it!"

"Do I _look _like I have a key?" Stiles snapped back as I held the door shut, peering out into the darkness for any hint of glowing red eyes.

"Grab something!"

"What?"

"_Anything_!"

The short-haired boy paused, standing from his crouched position to stare out onto the pavement.

"No," Scott said immediately, and I leaned forward to catch a glimpse at what they were bickering over.

"Yes."

"Stiles, no. Don't!"

Stiles pried open the door, moving to step outside. I suppressed an eye roll, reaching out and grabbing the back of his shirt, tugging him back inside in one sweep. "Hey-what the hell?" he asked loudly, stumbling backwards as Scott slammed the door shut to be safe.

"You're crazy if you think you're going out there," I hissed, tightening my hold on his clothes as I kept an eye out for the alpha.

"Do you have a better idea?"

I paused, weighing up my options. I knew, logically, that the smartest thing was for me to go and get it. But the again, I had the most to lose. One bite and I was history. Still, I didn't want to condemn Stiles to a life of the supernatural if I could help it, no one deserved this life. "Close the door after me," I grunted, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

"What-no," Stiles objected, but I paid him no mind, ripping open the door before I could change my mind and slipping out into the cool night air. I didn't wait around to see where the alpha was, sprinting at full speed towards the bolt-cutters.

I scooped them off the ground just as the great beast crawled out from behind Stiles' jeep, drool leaking from its bared teeth. I sucked in a sharp breath as it roared, beginning to gallop towards me. I was at the doors not a moment later, banging on them frantically. The boys tugged them open, and I slipped through the gap, shoving the tool between the handles the second they were closed. Stiles and Scott stared out the little windows, searching for the alpha who had disappeared during all the commotion.

"That won't hold, will it?" Scott asked after a moment, backing away from the doors.

"Probably not," Stiles replied shakily.

They turned around, facing the dark and looming school hallway, no doubt wondering what to do next. A howl pierced the silent night, and the boys jumped, scrambling to take cover somewhere safe. I followed them, body tensed, preparing for an attack at any moment. They darted into a classroom, rushing over to the teacher's desk and beginning to push it against the door, only to be stopped by Stiles.

"Stop," he whispered, glancing over his shoulder at the empty doorway. "The doors not gonna keep it out."

"I know."

"It's your boss. Deaton? The alpha? Your boss."

"No."

"Yes. Murdering, psycho werewolf."

"That can't be."

"Oh, come on. He disappears and then that thing shows up ten seconds later to toss Derek twenty feet through the air?" Stiles argued and he had a point, though I wasn't sure I agreed with him. "That's not convenient timing?"

"It's not him."

"He killed Derek."

"Well Derek's not dead. He can't be dead."

"Blood spurted out of his mouth, okay? That doesn't exactly qualify as a minor injury." My lips twitched despite the situation, but I focused my concentration on keeping my senses on looking out for the alpha. "He's dead, and we're next."

"Okay just...just, what do we do?" he asked distraughtly as I leaned out of the doorway, gaze flickering down each end of the hallway, checking for any hint of glowing red eyes.

"Get to my jeep," Stiles decided after a long moment. "We get outta here. You seriously think about quitting your job." He picked up the torch, both boys marching over to the windows, Scott beginning to pull at the latches desperately. "They don't open, the school's climate controlled."

"Then we break it," he tried, not sounding very confident in his own suggestion.

"It'll attract too much noise," I told him from my spot at the door, glancing back out into the hall again cautiously. "The only way we're getting out of this is through stealth. Its our best chance at getting out of this hellhole alive."

They both paused, considering my words, though I knew they could only agree. "Stiles, what's wrong with the hood of your jeep?" Scott asked suddenly, his voice panicked as he stared at the car in question.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"It's bent."

"Like dented?" Stiles asked frantically, leaping forward to get a better look at the jeep.

"No, no I mean _bent_."

"...what the hell?"

Before anyone could say anything else the window to their left smashed. Thinking it was the alpha I shot to the boys side, a threatening snarl bubbling up from my chest as the two of them dropped to the floor, covering their heads as glass flew all around them. We all relaxed a moment later as we discovered it wasn't in fact a murderous alpha, it was just a hunk of old metal that was obviously from the hood of Stiles' car. I realised I was in a defensive crouch and immediately straightened, brushing the little shards of glass off my top nonchalantly.

"That's my battery," Stiles said after a beat, torch light shining on the hunk of metal and wires.

"We're going," I said, reaching down and yanking Stiles to his feet.

"No!" Scott argued, tugging his friend back down to his level, his heart beating so fast it was lucky he didn't turn.

Thankfully Stiles seemed to get that I was their best bet at getting out of this alive. "We have to move," he told him as calmly as he could, pushing himself back up to his feet.

"He could be right outside."

"He _is _right outside."

"We're wasting time," I hissed at them, my eyes scanning the shadows outside for any hint of a wolf.

"Just let me take a look," Scott said, not waiting for a reply before getting to his knees so he could peer over the wall below the windows, staring through the glass wearily.

"Nothing?" Stiles asked worriedly, eyes scanning the horizon too. "Can we go now?"

"We're too out in the open right here," I whispered, shifting my weight from foot to foot, eager to get the hell out of there. "We're leaving," I said again when neither of them moved. I grasped them both by the front of their shirts and yanking them forwards. They tumbled out into the hall after me and I let them go, peering down the hall as my catlike eyesight adjusted, allowing me to see through the shadows as clearly as if it were day.

"This way," Scott said, taking off down the hall in the opposite direction.

"No, no, no. Somewhere without windows," Stiles replied softly, looking around as he considered where to head to. My eyebrows raised, so he wasn't a total idiot. Somewhere without windows was exactly the right kind of place to be.

"Every single room in this building has windows."

"Somewhere with less windows."

There was a pause as both boys thought. I didn't bother suggesting anything, they knew this school better than I could ever dream of. "The locker room," Scott suddenly declared.

Stiles nodded and turned to jog down the hall, keeping his steps as light as he could. "So any tips?" he asked me as I kept pace with him with almost comical ease.

"Excuse me?" I asked, trying both to listen to him and keep an eye out for the alpha at the same time.

"Well, I assume you have more experience than us with situations like this," he breathed, pressing a hand to his chest as we rounded a corner, heading down another long hallway. Scott jogged a few paces ahead of us, glancing over his shoulder every few moments in worry.

"Situations like this?" I asked with a small smile, humour getting the better of me. "Running from murderous werewolves?"

"Yeah," he panted, turning left down another hall when Scott did.

"I tend to keep my distance," I muttered, loosing concentration on the conversation as I heard the sound of paws hitting the ground when we passed by a bay of windows. I wasn't focused on the conversation at hand, and made a terrible mistake. "One bite and I'm dead anyway."

I didn't have time to realise I'd said something wrong before Scott was shoving open a door to the right, slipping inside quickly. "Call your dad," he instructed, glancing around the shadowed room cautiously.

"And tell him what?" Stiles asked, heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"Anything," he responded. "A gas leak, a fire; anything. If that thing sees the parking lot full of cops it'll take off."

"What if it doesn't? What if it goes completely terminator and kills every cop in sight? Including my dad?"

"They have guns."

"Yeah and Derek had to be shot with a wolfsbane laced bullet to even slow him down. Remember that?" Stiles retorted tensely, obviously not wanting to risk his dad's life. Something in me admired him, he was willing to risk his life to save that of those he loved. There was once a time I felt the same way. I tried to picture myself sacrificing myself for the boys tonight, letting myself get bitten to ensure their survival. I shook my head, no matter how much I wished I was the kind of person who could do that, I knew that the first opportunity I got I was likely to run away, and keep running until Beacon Hills was nothing more than a dot on the horizon. "Juliet," Stiles began, turning to face me fully where I sat leaning against the lockers, peering into the shadows for any hint of the alpha. "What kind of chance is there that this thing will kill any cops that show up?"

"A high chance," I responded dryly, not meeting his eyes through the darkness.

"But he's a werewolf," Scott muttered confusedly. "Surely he knows what he's doing."

"Like you knew what you were doing that night on the bus?" I asked, raising a single eyebrow at him.

He dropped his head, acknowledging my point. "We have to find a way out and just run for it," he decided after a long moment.

"Dude, there's nothing near the school for at least a mile," Stiles argued in a hushed voice.

"What about Derek's car?"

"That could work," Stiles nodded after a beat. "We'll go outside, get the keys off his body and then we take his car."

"And him."

We both paused, blinking at Scott dubiously. "Fine, whatever," Stiles shrugged carelessly, and I mirrored the action and we spun around, heading for the door.

"Stop," I hissed at the same time as Scott grabbed hold of his friend's arm, pulling him to a stop. I tilted my head to the side, listening to soft footsteps as they headed towards the locker room.

"What?" he asked confusedly, looking between us cautiously.

"I think I heard something."

"Like _what_?"

Scott shushed him, narrowing his eyes at the door. "Hide," he commanded, darting backwards and shoving himself into an empty locker. I glanced over my shoulder, taking in the frozen form of Stiles who stared at the door in horror. I sighed and grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging open a locker door and all but throwing him inside. He stared at me, shock and something else in his eyes, before I slammed the door in his face. I knew hiding would do me no good – my scent was too strong – so I stepped back into the shadows, hoping I would at least be able to maintain some kind of element of surprise. The footsteps came closer and I felt the blood drain from my face, preparing to make a change of my own. Before I could fully change, the door swung open and I slammed myself against the concrete of the wall, holding my breath as I watched the man enter the room.

That didn't make any sense. Why the hell would the alpha turn back into a man to come inside? Surely he knew he was much more likely to win against me as a wolf. I stayed in the shadows, recognising instantly that he couldn't have been the alpha. The alpha, for one, would have known I was there. He'd also have smelt like wet dog. This guy just smelt like disinfectant and aging cheese.

He walked straight passed me, not even glancing at me where I stood in the shadows. My mind spun as I caught sight of his jugular pulsing under the thin skin of his neck. If I were to feed from him, I'd be stronger, and I'd have a better chance at getting all of us out of this alive. I wouldn't have to kill him, just a sip would be enough...

I hadn't realised my fangs were starting to descend until the man pulled open the locker Scott was hiding in, both men letting out a scream of fear. I rolled my eyes at how pathetic humans were, stepping out of the darkness and into the light after making sure my mask was back in place. Stiles fell out of his hiding place too, yelping along with them. They shushed him desperately, glancing around wildly. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?" the guy asked, a hand pressed to his chest where his heart was trying to escape its confines. "Both of you get out."

"Will you just listen for half a second, okay?"

"Not okay. Get the hell out of here," he snapped, shoving the boys towards the door. "Right now!"

"Just one second to explain-"

"Just shut up and go," he cut Stiles off. I huffed as his mammoth hand wrapped around my shoulder as he threw me out the door. I growled at him but he took no notice, slamming the door shut in my face. I was about to pull it back open and give the guy a piece of my mind, but before I could so much as grab the handle he was slammed up against the frosted glass window, unmistakeable blood splatter spraying the door. Both boys gasped in shock, while I stared at the scene stoically. I tried to conjure up some sympathy for the man, but like always found it impossible to do so; my vampirism and lack of humanity wouldn't let me. I stared unemotionally as the man's silhouette was thrown against the glass, his dying screams of agony echoing through the hall around us.

Scott leapt at the door, frantically trying to pry it open to save the man. Stiles moved with his friend, reaching around to pull him off the wall to safety. I saw he was struggling; Scott was one strong werewolf. I wrapped my arm around his bicep, heaving him away from the dying man and dragging him down the hall. After a moment Scott seemed to get the idea, standing on his own two feet and following Stiles and I, close on our heels as we heard the door get ripped off it's hinges. The scent of the man's blood made its way to me and I fought the instinct to turn around and go back to lick it off his remains. Instead I pushed myself faster, rushing down the hall as fast as I dared, not wanting to leave the boys behind just yet. I could afford to stay a little longer, it was probably best for me in the long run anyway.

They scrambled down the hall, Stiles practically falling over himself he was so clumsy. I followed, trying not to be annoyed by the slow pace. They reached the south entrance, Scott pushing on the door hastily only for it to jam, obviously blocked by something. I tapped my foot impatiently, tensed in morbid anticipation for the inevitable arrival of the alpha. "It's a dumpster," Scott muttered darkly.

"He pushed it in front of the door, to block us in," Stiles supplied needlessly. He turned to me, an expectant and hopeful look on his face. "Can you push it away?"

"Probably not," I admitted. The thing looked too heavy for even me to push out of the way, and if Scott couldn't, then there was no way I would be able to.

"Stiles, stop!" Scott exclaimed when his friend began beating at the door, frantically trying to break through. I rolled my eyes. If I couldn't do it, there was no chance in _hell_ he could.

"I'm not dying here, I'm not dying here," he mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself as we turned to head back down the hallway. "I'm not dying at school."

"We're not going to die!"

"What is it doing? What does it want?!" Stiles yelled tiredly, clutching the torch tightly.

"Me!" Scott said nervously. "Derek said it's stronger with a pack."

"Oh, great. A psychotic werwolf who's into team work. That's-that's beautiful." I forced my expression to stay sombre, though inside I laughed. Stiles had this uncanny ability to make me laugh in the most dire of circumstances. I couldn't let him know that though, so I smothered any reaction to his comment I may have had and stared straight ahead.

Scott stopped suddenly, throwing out an arm and stopping Stiles soccer-mom style. I blinked, pausing just before running into Stiles' back. I looked up to see Scott staring out the window. I followed his gaze, my eyes narrowing as I caught sight of glowing red eyes attached to a huge bear-like-wolf standing in the shadows on the roof. I curled my lip, about to throw a snarl at it for good measure, when it charged. It sped across the roof, heading directly for us. The boys spun on their heels and booked it down the hall, and I was quick to follow.

Behind me glass shattered as the alpha threw itself through the window, crashing into the wall for a moment before I heard it pick itself up and begin to race after us. All thoughts of saving Scott and Stiles flew from my head as I ran, overtaking the panicked boys with ease. I shoved open a door on the right, not caring where it took me.

I didn't bother with the stairs, merely jumping over the rail and landing flat on my feet before taking off again. I could hear the sound of the boys following me in the distance, their heavy footfalls on the stairs. Shame overtook me and I stopped dead.

What was I doing?

This town was meant to be a fresh start for me. One where I became a better (undead) person. Leaving the boys to die – which they most certainly would without me – was a dick move, even I could see that. So with Myra's words echoing in my head, I spun around and darted back the way I'd come.

I followed the sounds of the racing hearts, scowling to myself and already regretting my decision as I found them on a lower floor, pressed up against some lockers, shaking like little girls. "Juliet!" Stiles exclaimed louder than he should have when I appeared in front of them. "I thought you'd left."

"I almost did," I muttered back to him, staring over my shoulder at the staircase, listening closely for any sign the alpha was near.

"Right, we have to do something," he mumbled, glancing around in fear, unable to keep tabs on the beast like Scott and I could.

"Like what?"

"I dunno," he responded dully and I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. "Kill it? Burn it? Put mental anguish on it? _Something_."

There was a bang down the hall and both boys practically jumped out of their skin. I pressed my fingers to my temple, trying not to snap at the idiots. They paused, Scott straining his neck to make sure it wasn't getting any closer and Stiles looked deep in thought, glancing around at the room we were at the mouth of.

I hissed at him quietly when he pulled his keys out from his pocket, but he paid me no mind. Suddenly he threw the keys into the room, ducking behind the door and pulling Scott and I with him. I tensed as the beast charged into the room, looking for blood, and Stiles' slammed the door on it, locking it with surprisingly deft fingers then with Scott's help shoved a table in front of the door for good measure. They were panting, exhausted from the effort of moving the heavy table, plus breathless with fear. I crossed my arms, stepping back and getting ready to move.

The werewolf roared, slamming itself uselessly against the door. The boys jumped violently at the noise. "Come on," Stiles urged his friend. "Get across."

Scott hesitated, glancing into the room wearily before rushing over the table, stumbling ungracefully into a tense Stiles. "What are you doing?" he hissed at his friend when he peered around the corner, trying to get a peek at the beast in the room.

"I just wanna get a look at it," he said defensively.

"Are you crazy?"

"Look, it's trapped. Okay? It's not gonna get out."

Stiles climbed onto the table, peering into the small window cautiously as he mumbled to himself. "Shut up," Scott urged.

"I'm not scared of this thing," he argued, only for it to slam against the door suddenly, making him jump a foot in the air, tumbling off the table and onto the hard ground. "I'm not scared of you!" he yelled once he'd put himself back on his feet. I rolled my eyes, listening to the sound of his heart racing in his chest. "Right? 'Cause you're in there and we're out here. You're not going anywh-"

A loud crash sounded from the room it was trapped in and we all froze. The roof above us began creaking, the sound of something moving. I took off in the opposite direction, grabbing Stiles' arm for good measure to tug him along. We raced through the halls, and I barely noticed I still had a hold of Stiles.

"Wait, do you hear that?" Scott said, stopping suddenly in the hall. I froze, tilting my head as I automatically searched for the sound he was referring to.

"Hear what?" Stiles asked confusedly as I caught the sound of a phone ringing in the distance.

"It's a phone," I said with a frown, my fingers twitching to pull out a cigarette. I clenched my hands into fists, stopping the urge in its tracks. Now wasn't the time.

"_What_?"

"I know that ring!" Scott exclaimed with a gasp. "It's Allison's phone." He spun around, tapping his friend on the shoulder eagerly. "Give me your phone."

"Why?"

"Because mine's still broken," he replied softly but strongly. The short-haired boy handed over his phone, and the teen wolf tapped away at it, holding it up to his ear and beginning to talk to his girlfriend in hushed whispers.

I stared at Stiles unthinkingly. His heart was pounding a mile a minute and he jumped at every creak the old building made in the wind. "You're scared?" I asked before I could stop myself, crossing my arms and leaning back against the lockers.

He blinked, turning to me with a dubious expression. "Of _course _I'm scared," he hissed, like he was infuriated I'd even asked. "Aren't you?"

A thoughtful frown tugged at my lips. Was I afraid? I hadn't really had time to assess how I felt. I was relatively new to the whole 'emotions' thing, having had my humanity switch flicked off for so many decades. Every emotion was heightened, intense and almost overbearing. They all just sort of blurred together into one; hunger.

It was hard to figure out if what I was feeling was fear. I couldn't sweat like humans, my heart couldn't race and my mouth couldn't go dry. There was an odd fluttering in my gut that felt somewhat foreign, and if I had to put it down to anything, fear would be the most logical assumption. "I think so," I admitted with a grimace, biting my lip as I studied a scuff mark on the linoleum.

"You _think_ so?" he repeated dubiously, raising his eyebrows at me, his heart rate picking up even more. "How can you _not know _if you're scared?"

I opened my mouth, though I was saved from having to come up with a lie as Scott hung up the phone, stepping closer to where we were hovering and speaking up. "Allison's going to meet us in the lobby," he said, handing the device to Stiles and taking off without warning, causing his friend to moan in annoyance. I rolled my eyes at the young wolf, following after the two boys. Their footfalls weren't exactly soft as they charged through the school. I kept my concentration on looking for signs of the alpha. Those two boys were going to get themselves killed.

"What are you doing here? Why did you come?" Scott asked immediately as they shoved their way into the lobby, my close on their heals.

"Because you asked me to," she replied tensely.

"I asked you to?"

Allison frowned, pressing a button on her phone and holding up the small device, letting us read a text from him to her asking her to meet him at the school. I frowned, eyes glancing upwards as the roof above us creaked. The sound was small, so I assumed it was a possum or something and focused back on the conversation at hand. "Why do I get the feeling you didn't send this message?" she asked carefully, heart beating rapidly in her chest.

"Because I didn't."

"Did you drive here?" Stiles asked impatiently.

"Jackson did."

"Jackson's here too?"

"And Lydia," she told us, and I stifled a groan. Of course those idiots were here. Just three more ignorant people I had to protect. "What's going on? Who sent this text?" Her phone began chiming again and with a sigh she answered it just as I heard footsteps echoing down a hall to our left. "Where are you?" Lydia and Jackson shoved their way into the room, irritated scowls on their pretty faces.

"Finally," the queen-bee sighed, crossing her arms and jutting out her hip. "Can we go now?"

Another creak echoed from above me and everyone in the room froze. Okay, so maybe not a possum. I sucked in a breath, tensing my body as I prepared for a fight.

"Run," Scott commanded, and nobody fought him on it. They all took off running up the stairs, most of them not really sure exactly what they were running from. I was close on their heels; I had the best chance at fighting it off if it got to me I tried not to think about how seriously dead I would be if it managed to bite me, focusing instead on putting one foot in front of the other. We sprinted down the hallway, the massive beast only feet behind us. Scott crashed into the doors at the end of the hall, waiting just long enough for us to fall through before slamming them shut and beginning to shove desks and chairs at the entrance. "Help me get this stuff in front of the door!"

"Scott, wait. No," Stiles protested, and I immediately spun around, blinking up at the huge wall of windows. A sinking feeling appeared in my stomach and I pressed a hand to it in hopes of lessoning the less-than-delightful feeling.

"What was that? Scott, what was that?" Allison asked in a panic, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"Just help me!" he yelled, he and Jackson tugging a particularly large piece of furniture in front of the two doors.

"Guys," Stiles tried again. "Just wait a second." I leaned against the board, closing my eyes and wishing I was curled up in bed with a glass of A-positive and my favourite book. "You guys, listen to me. Will you wait a second?" He began to get more and more agitated as nobody listened. I crossed my arms, tipping my head back so my skull bumped against the board, breathing in deeply through my nose. It only agitated me further as the delicious scents of everyone bar Scott filled the room, and I clenched my jaw shut. "_Hello?!_" Everyone finally turned to stare at Stiles, who relaxed once he knew he had their attention. "Okay, nice work. Really beautiful job everyone. Now, what should we do about the twenty foot wall of windows."

They all deflated, staring at the glass with frustrated and exhausted expressions.

"Somebody please explain to me what's going on because I'm freaking out here," Allison said suddenly, grasping on to Scott's arm as she pleaded with him for answers. "Scott?"

He pulled away from the girl, marching over to one of the desks and collapsing onto it tiredly. I watched all this happen from my faux-casual position by the board. It was in my nature to hide my emotions, though everyone's irritated and confused glance told me my passive expression wasn't helping anything. "Somebody killed the janitor," Stiles spoke up, surprising us all.

"What?" Lydia squeaked.

"Yeah, the janitor's dead."

"What's he talking about? Is this a joke?" Allison asked.

"Who killed him?" Jackson was the one to speak up this time.

"No, no, no, no. This was supposed to be over. The mountain lion killed-"

"Don't you get it?" Jackson cut her off firmly. "There wasn't a mountain lion."

"Who was it?!" Allison demanded furiously. "What does he want? What's happening?_ Scott_?"

"I don't know. I just-if we go out there, he's going to kill us," he said unconfidently, making me roll my eyes. He needed to learn to lie better than that.

"Us? He's going to kill _us_?"

"Who? Who is it?"

There was a pregnant pause, before Scott sprouted something surprising. "It's Derek. It's Derek Hale."

"Derek killed the janitor?" Jackson asked dubiously.

"Are you sure?"

They prattled on, arguing amongst themselves. I pressed my fingers to my forehead, breathing through my mouth to make their scents less potent to me. I was aching for a sip, as much as I could get my hands on. I knew it wasn't an option, so I clenched my teeth together tightly, ignoring the incessant burning in my throat and the tingling of my gums.

"Why does Derek want to kill us?" Allison asked loudly, snapping me out of my murderous thoughts and bringing my focus back to the task at hand. "Why is he killing _anyone_?"

"Why is everyone looking at me?" Scott asked after a lengthy silence as they all stared at him expectantly.

"Is he the one that sent her that text?" Lydia questioned hysterically.

"No! I mean-I don't know," he stumbled over his words.

"Is he the one that called the police?"

"I _don't know_!"

"Alright, why don't we ease back on the throttle here okay?" Stiles suggested slightly more calmly. Grabbing Scott by the shoulders and steering him away from the group, closer to me. "Hey first up, throwing Derek under the bus? Nicely done."

I smiled despite the situation, though quickly wiped the expression from my face.

"I didn't know what to say, I had to say something," he hissed back defensively. "And if he's dead, then it doesn't matter. Right? Except if he's not... oh God, I totally just bit her head off."

I rolled my eyes at the teen relationship drama as Stiles steered the conversation on. "And she'll totally get over it. Bigger issues at hand here. How do we get out alive?"

"But we _are _alive. He could have killed us already. It's like it's cornering us or something."

"So what? He wants to eat us all at the same time?"

"No. Derek said it wants revenge."

"Okay!" Jackson shouted, interrupting their little talk rather rudely. I really didn't like that kid. "Stiles calls his useless dad and tells him to send someone with a gun and aim. Are we good with that?"

"He's right. Tell him the truth if you have to," Scott said when Stiles hesitated. "Just call him."

"I'm not watching my dad get eaten alive," he replied in a surprisingly strong tone.

"Alright," Jackson hissed after a beat, surging forwards and grasping Stiles suddenly. "Give me the phone." Stiles suddenly spun around, arm flying almost too quick for my eyes to see and slamming into Jackson's face. I gasped in delight, clapping my hands together, a grin spreading across my lips as I watched the jerk sag, holding his face in pain. Allison gasped for a whole different reason, crouching down to see if he was okay.

As everybody else stared at a recovering Jackson, Stiles' gaze slid over to me. I was surprised by the question his eyes held. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but deep in my gut I could tell it was probably some kind of reassurance. I was no good at that sort of thing, but I nodded anyway, hoping it helped the situation somehow. Stiles sighed, running a hand over his short hair before forcefully tugging his phone free of his pocket. "Dad, hey. It's me," he said defeatedly into the phone. "And it's your voicemail...look I need you to call me back. Now. Like, right now." A loud _bang_ echoed around the room, everybody jumping. I even flinched, then scowled at the involuntary action. "We're at the school dad. We're at the school," he said as the banging continued, somebody (or something) clearly banging on the doors. I stepped away from the wall, moving to the group, angling myself so I stood slightly in front of them, prepared to defend them if it came down to it. "The door out of the kitchen leads to the stairwell," he told us as we stared at the shaking doors.

"It only goes up," Scott argued.

"Up is better than here."

Scott led us, making a dash for the door just as the ones behind us were bashed open. They darted for the stairwell, taking them two at a time in their rush to get to safety. Once we were on the next floor they began desperately jiggling handles, looking for an open door. Jackson found one, and we all spilled into the room. He shoved a chair under the handle, barricading us in. Everyone was silent as we waiting for something to happen. Slow, heavy footsteps passed the door, then disappeared down the hall, along with wet, heavy breathing.

"Jackson, how many people can fit in your car?" Scott asked as loudly as he dared.

"Five, if someone squeezes on someone's lap," he responded.

"Five?" Allison retorted. "I barely fit in the back."

"It doesn't matter, there's no getting out without drawing attention," Stiles murmured.

"Well what about this? This leads to the roof, we could go down the fire escape to the parking lot in like two seconds," Scott suggested.

"That's a deadbolt," he responded with a tired blink.

Scott paused, looking down in defeat before brightening up. "The janitor has a key."

"You mean his body has it."

"I can get it. I can find it by scent. By blood," he told us, barely glancing at me.

"Well gee, that sounds like an incredibly terrible idea. What else you got?" Stiles drawled, and I bit back a smirk.

"I'm getting the key," Scott said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Everyone else argued, saying he couldn't go out there weaponless. I'd have suggested using my daggers, but I didn't want them to know I'd come into this prepared for a fight. It would look too suspicious. Lydia surprised us all by suggesting a self igniting molotov cocktail. I raised my eyebrows at her, then at Jackson as he smashed the glass of the cupboard and they began preparing the weapon.

I leaned back against the board, watching them work uninterestedly. Stiles appeared beside me, and I looked up at him, my expression bored. He jerked his head, motioning for me to follow him. My eyebrows pulled together, but I could see in his eyes that whatever it was was important, so I pushed myself off the wall, following him to the opposite corner of the room where we wouldn't be overheard by the other humans. "What?" I asked once we were there, crossing my arms again and leaning back against some shelves nonchalantly. He opened his mouth, pausing then slamming it shut again, a pensive look on his face. "Spit it out," I drawled, glancing over my shoulder at the group by the teacher's desk, mixing together the molotov cocktail.

"I know," he blurted softly, face scrunching up as he spoke.

I blinked at him, "You know what?"

He swallowed, his adams apple bobbing with the motion. "I know you're-that you're a...vampire," he whispered, saying it like it was a curse word. I considered denying it, but I knew he was too smart for that. I'd seen the looks he'd given me, I'd known he was close to figuring it out. I thought I'd have more time to figure out how I'd react, I wasn't expecting him to discover me so soon. I took a deep breath, keeping my expression clear of emotion as I stared at him through the dark. He seemed to get that I wasn't going to say anything, and barrelled on. "Is there anything you can do?"

I considered his words, wondering how far I was willing to go for these kids. "Not without risking my own life," I told him honestly. He frowned, glancing over at Jackson who was eyeing us suspiciously before turning his attention back to me. I pursed my lips, his expression striking a cord within me. "I'm fast," I admitted under my breath, turning my gaze to the far wall so I wouldn't have to look into his overly-expressive eyes. "Faster than Scott. And certainly faster than the alpha."

"That's something," he said, hope colouring his voice. "Right?"

"One bite, Stiles," I replied tensely, chancing a glimpse at him. His brows were drawn together, and his heart was pounding away in his chest. "One bite and it's game over for me."

"It's the same for everyone though," he whispered, taking a step closer to me. "We're all risking our lives." I stared at him stonily, my teeth grinding together in my mouth. "Listen," he began again, moving closer to me still. I leaned away from him, but he didn't seem to notice. "Out of everyone here, I'm betting you have the best chance at beating this thing."

I narrowed my eyes at him, holding my breath to avoid taking in his scent. "What makes you think that?"

He hesitated, scratching his face idly and considering his words carefully before speaking. "I think you're old." I raised an eyebrow at him, tilting my head and watching as he thought over what he'd said. "What I mean is – I think you've been around a long time. Am I right?" I didn't reply, biting my lip and continuing to stare at him blankly, my face giving nothing away. "Which means you have experience dealing with this sort of thing."

He was right, in a way. I'd never been trapped inside a high school with a bunch of kids trying to fend off a murderous alpha, but I _had _fought my fair share of werewolves in my time.

"So, given the opportunity, could you beat him?" he asked softly, frowning worriedly as his gaze flickered to the group working by the table.

I pressed my lips together tightly, thinking over his question. "It's a toss of a coin, really," I whispered, glancing away from him, fixing my eyes on the wall behind him, not wanting to look in his eyes as I spoke. "We're most likely pretty evenly matched, the outcome will come down to circumstance; luck."

He nodded, brow furrowing as he considered my words. "You have to try, though."

My lip curled as I snapped my gaze back to him, and his heart leapt at the furious expression. "I don't _have _to do anything."

He blinked, apparently something about my words surprised him. Suddenly, a steely resolve lit up in his eyes and he took yet another step closer to me, this time so close I could feel his breath on my lips. "You could have run away at any point tonight," he hissed, staring down directly into my eyes. "You're still here. There has to be a reason why."

This time I was the surprised one. Why _had_ I stayed? I didn't care whether they lived or died. Did I? I huffed, opening my mouth to respond, though I wasn't sure what with, when I was interrupted. "Lock it behind me," Scott said to us firmly, and before I knew what I was doing I'd snapped out an arm and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Wait," I muttered, an annoyed scowl on my lips. Stiles looked down at me with wide eyes, and I pursed my lips tightly before speaking. "You can't go alone," I said darkly, letting him go and crossing my arms, my eyes flickering over the people in the room with barely concealed distain. "I'm coming with you."

"What?" he asked, frowning at me.

"Trust me, it's better for everyone if you just go with it," I grumbled. "Now hurry up before I change my mind."

"You can't be serious," Allison breathed, pressing a hand to her head. "Scott's one thing. But you? You can't weigh more than a hundred pounds, you don't stand a chance." Her lower lip quivered and she sniffled pathetically. I rolled my eyes, reaching behind me and pulling the two daggers from the waistband of my jeans out, twirling them effortlessly in my hands. Lydia stepped back and Jackson stared at me, unimpressed. "Why would you bring weapons if you didn't know this would happen?" Allison asked me suspiciously, a tear slipping down her porcelain cheek.

"I always carry daggers," I lied with a shrug, stepping forwards and shoving Scott along gently. He looked over his shoulder longingly at his girlfriend and I rolled my eyes, pushing him closer to the door. He turned back around, unlocking the door and sliding out into the dark hall.

I slipped through the gap, turning around as I stepped out of the doorway and blinking in surprise as I saw Stiles was only inches from me, preparing to close the door after me. "Be careful," he breathed so quietly I was sure only Scott and I could hear. "Whatever you do...don't get bitten."

I bit back a sarcastic reply, merely nodding my head with one jerky motion and moving further into the hall, daggers held up in front of me as the door bumped shut and the lock clicked into place. I moved my neck in a circle, and it cracked, the sound echoing through the shadows in the hall. Scott opened his mouth to say something to me and I shook my head, pressing a finger to my lips. He nodded, moving forwards through the darkness, keen eyes searching for any hint of the alpha.

Again, I was hit with the knowledge that I could just _run_. The chances of the alpha catching up to me were slim to none, it was the only way I could be certain I wouldn't die in the Godforsaken school. But, unfortunately for me, Stiles was right. I could have run, and I hadn't yet. Obviously there was a reason why.

I crept behind Scott, my footsteps barely making a sound against the linoleum floor as we walked down the stairs, quietly pushing our way through the door to the first floor.

Scott's nose was better than mine, so I merely followed the young boy, prepared to defend him should the alpha attack. He padded into the gymnasium, slowly making his way under the seats, stepping over the metal supports and sniffing the air every few moments. I followed him silently, tensing up every time the seats creaked. I took a deep breath in to help relax me, and immediately I froze.

Blood.

My gums tingled, my eyes and throat burned and my muscles coiled. I hadn't realised how hungry I was until I caught the irresistible scent of the liquified life exposed to the air. Scott stopped dead ahead of me, slowly looking upwards. I copied the action, heat flaring through me as I caught sight of the janitor's bloodied corpse hanging from the supports. I shoved down the urge to feed, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, prepared to at any moment fend off an attack.

The boy caught sight of the keys and set down the molotov cocktail, pulling himself up to reach them where they hang from the man's belt. Before he could grab them, the seats started to collapse in on themselves, somebody clearly doing it on purpose. I froze for a moment before grasping Scott by the arm and wrenching him from his spot on the supports. Luckily for us he'd gotten the keys, and he swooped down to grab the cocktail before hightailing it outta there. I made it to safety before him, knives held up and ready to attack. He rolled out into the open, immediately leaping to his feet.

A deep growling from the other end of the building rumbled through the room, and we both spun around to face the source. I allowed my face to change, veins crawling up my cheeks and fangs sliding from my gums. I snarled in warning, Scott flinching at the feral sound before gathering himself and glaring determinately at the alpha. I idly spun the daggers in my hands, as I watched the beast crawl towards us, saliva dripping from its clenched muzzle.

"Come on," he muttered, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Come and get us."

It charged towards us, but before it could get close enough to land any hits Scott threw the molotov cocktail at it. I was expecting it to blow up, so I was greatly disappointed when nothing happened other than the glass shattered and the liquid inside spilled everywhere.

"Shit," I mumbled as the monster roared, undeterred as it moved towards us. It had no interest in me, reaching for Scott as he turned to run, tripping him and pulling him closer to him, the boy sliding hopelessly across the floor. I hissed, my fangs biting into my lower lip as the beast reared around to face me. It swiped at me but I dodged it with ease, using the moment of confusion to my advantage by slicing it across the chest with one of the daggers in my hand. It growled, my cut nothing more than an irritation, and with one swipe of it's paw shoved me out of the way. I scowled as I hit the floor, my head banging against the hard ground. Black spots danced in my vision as I pushed myself to my feet.

I was too late. It was already hovering over Scott, staring at him intelligently before letting out a mighty howl. I winced, slapping my hands over my ears as the sound vibrated through me. After a long, painful moment it stopped and leapt over a convulsing Scott. I knew what had happened; it had been a command, an order to shift. I knew Scott was no longer in control of himself, so staying around him wasn't an option for me. I turned, following the path the alpha had taken through the school, ignoring Scott's pained screams from behind me.

I was faster, and caught up to it with relative ease. I overtook it, sliding in front of it and blocking its path. "Hello, mutt," I said as we both paused. It growled, dipping into a defensive crouch. I copied the action, ready to fight.

Without any warning it flew at me. I slipped out of the way, appearing on its other side and stabbing it in the chest with a dagger. It groaned but recovered almost instantly, spinning around and opening its jaws wide, preparing to bite me. I dodged out of the way again, punching it in the eye and jumping back. It snarled, and I snarled right back, flashing him my pearly white fangs. It made another move to bite me, and I ducked under it's jaw. While I was distracted by trying to keep it's teeth from my flesh, it managed to land a hit on my torso.

I was slammed back into the lockers, my head hitting the metal hard enough that I knew I'd have a concussion. I winced, falling to the ground. The alpha turned on it's heel and ran, disappearing down the hall before I could stand and catch up. I looked down at myself, frowning in confusion as I saw red seeping through my white t-shirt. The bastard had scratched me.

I moved to sit up, but almost immediately fell back down as a searing pain rocked through me. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to muffle my screams. Scratches from an alpha werewolf were just as bad as bites in the pain department, the only difference being it wouldn't kill me, just hurt like a bitch and take forever to heal. I moved a shaky hand to the hem of my top, slowly pulling it up to view the damage.

I had three deep gashes running from just under my breast down diagonally across my stomach and ending at my hipbone. I hissed as I touched them, they felt like they were on fire and were bleeding excessively. At this rate I was going to pass out from blood loss before I had a chance to get to safety.

I couldn't move if I wanted to, all I could do was press my hands to my stomach and pray my healing would kick in enough to stop the blood flow. It could have been hours, though it was probably minutes later, when I heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs to my right. I opened my eyes, frowning as I didn't remember shutting them, and looking up with fuzzy sight as the figure of a person ran towards me.

"Oh my God, oh my God, _oh my God,_" the familiar voice of Stiles muttered, dropping to his knees and sliding the last few feet towards me, coming to rest at my side. "Are you okay?" At my weak glare he winced, nodding his head. "Right, stupid question." His hands hovered above my body, like he wasn't sure what to do with them. "I'm gonna be sick," he said as he looked down at his knees which were covered in blood from the puddle on the floor. "Are you gonna die?"

"No," I grunted, grasping his arm with my hand. "Help me up."

"I really don't think you should stand-"

"Help. Me. Up."

He swallowed, his adams apple bobbing as he scrambled to his feet, reaching down and unsteadily pulling me to my feet with him. I wobbled, hissing at the flare of agony that ripped across my torso. "Shouldn't you be healing?" he asked under his breath as he gently tugged me down the hallway, towards where I could hear the sounds of the police beginning to sweep the building. "Wait you _can_ heal, right? Because I read some lore that said you couldn't because technically you're dead-" I wrenched myself out of his arms, a furious scowl on my lips. I pressed one hand to my bleeding stomach, the other to the wall to help me balance.

"I have to go, nobody can see this blood, or they'll ask questions I don't want to have to answer," I told him hurriedly, freezing as I heard footsteps heading towards where we were standing.

"You can't leave," he hissed, stepping closer to me but immediately shifting back at the sight of my glare. "Lydia, Allison and Jackson have already seen you and no doubt already told the police."

"Well what the hell do you expect me to do?" I growled, blinking away the black spots from my vision and focusing on him. I took a deep breath in, flinching at the pain ripping across my torso. "Let the paramedics examine me and realise I don't have a heartbeat?"

Stiles looked contemplative for a long moment as I anxiously listened to the sound of footsteps only a hall over from us. "I have a sweater in my locker," he said suddenly, spinning around on his heel and disappearing around a corner. I blanched, blinking at the empty air in front of me. That little prick had just left me.

A door at the end of the hall pushed open and a deputy ran in, spotting me instantly and darting over to help me. "Are you alright, miss?"

"Go to the other side of the school," I commanded him, struggling to keep our eyes locked as I did my little party trick. "Forget you saw me here."

"Yes ma'am," he responded politely, turning on his heel and marching back down the hall.

I sagged, already exhausted. I was weak, and only going to get weaker. One deputy? No problem. An entire crowd of police and paramedics? Slight problem.

"Hey," Stiles said, reappearing in front of me. I blinked vacantly, not having noticed him approach. He held out a handful of black fabric, "I spilt coke on it the other day and left it in my locker to dry but forgot to get it after school." I swayed on my feet, trying to make my lips move so I could tell him I didn't care. "Whoa, okay," he mumbled, pressing his empty hand to my shoulder to steady me.

I nudged him off, tentatively reaching for my shirt and slowly – and painfully – peeling it off my body. I hissed in pain as the fabric rubbed over my wounds but didn't stop until it was over my head. I handed it off to Stiles, who had gone white. I wasn't sure if it was the sight of my lacy white bra or the three deep gashes slicing across my body. Probably a combination of both. I handed him the blood soaked shirt, taking the black sweater from him and hesitantly slipping my arms into the holes, zipping it up over my injuries carefully. "Toss it," I told him quietly, shoving the feeling of the pain into the back of my mind, forcing myself to stand straight and confident, so no one could tell I was hurt.

"What?" he asked unintelligently.

I rolled my eyes. "The bloody shirt, Stiles," I said tightly, glancing down at the red stained fabric pointedly. "Toss it into the bottom of a trashcan where they won't find it."

He nodded, hurrying over to the far wall and slipping the shirt into the bottom of the can. I took a deep breath in, immediately clenching my teeth together as I was once again surrounded by the boy's mouthwatering scent. Why did he have to smell so damn delicious?

We made our way towards the main entrance, but didn't get there before Stiles' father – the Sheriff – appeared on front of us, pulling his son into a warm embrace. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, cupping his hands around the boy's shoulders and holding him away so he could look him over. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, dad," he told his father, who continued to eye him carefully, searching for any hint of an injury.

Finally he nodded, pulling his son into another hug before letting him go, his eyes sliding over to me, only just noticing I was there. "Juliet, right?" he asked, also looking me over, assessing the damage. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sir," I told him with a reassuring nod.

He nodded back, shooting me a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Come on," he said, leading us out of the school, hand not for a second leaving his son's back. i glanced back up at the dark, looming school behind us. In a way, I was proud. I hadn't run. I'd done what Myra would have wanted me to do. I stayed and I fought. I knew I could do it now. I knew I could fight.


	9. Heroes

_You're not a hero, you're a liar_

_You're not a saviour, you're a vampire_

_Sucking the life out of all the friends you've ever known_

Heroes – All Time Low

* * *

Getting to Stiles' house wasn't a problem. I slid through the trees and jumped onto the second storey, perching at his window, peering in through the darkness. He wasn't asleep, despite it nearly being daylight. I could hear his father's snores from down the hall. Stiles was sat at his desk, hand supporting his head as he stared down at an old textbook, lazily flipping the pages every few moments. I hesitated, unsure what I was even doing there. Was I there to threaten him? To yell at him? To kill him?

Despite my hesitancies, I tapped at the window, holding myself up with the awning and trying not to cringe at the pain that flared across my middle. Stiles gasped and spun around, a baseball bat all but appearing in his grasp. I supposed the events of the past twenty-four hours had a deeper impact than I had first assumed. He stared at me through the glass, shock and distrust on his face. After a tense moment he stood, though he kept a hold of the bat, and moved over to his windowsill. He unlatched the lock and I grasped the bottom, sliding it up and slipping through the gap, landing gracefully on the floor of his room. I was thankful I'd already received an invitation inside, pressing a hand to my painful injury and trying not to groan when it stung even more under my touch.

"Are you okay?" was the first thing he asked, staring at me with wide, sincerely worried eyes.

I paused, staring back at him evenly, considering how to reply. "I will be," I decided to say, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

Stiles swallowed, glancing to the ground and running a hand over his short hair before saying, "are you going to kill me?" I blinked. I hadn't been expecting that. He twisted his hands in front of him anxiously, watching me wearily.

_Was_ I going to kill him? It would be easy to get rid of him, then there was no chance of finding out who I was and what I was, no chance of the hunters coming after me, no chance of me dying for good. "I haven't decided yet," I told him honestly, letting go of my wounded stomach and crossing my arms over my chest.

His heart thudded in his chest, beating against his sternum like it was trying to break free. "I'm not going to tell anyone," he said quickly, a touch of desperation in his tone. "I mean, I've already told Scott, but neither one of us will tell _anyone_, I swear it. Also, it would be stupid to kill me, because I'm the sheriff's son, and the last thing you'd want is anyone finding DNA evidence of you on my body."

"Who says there'll be a body?" I asked, raising a single eyebrow at the nervous boy.

"Well-well I can help you," he stuttered, clearly grasping at straws in an attempt to convince me to spare him. "Yeah," he nodded, becoming more sure of himself as he went on. "Yeah, I'll help you. You need Scott, right? He's your way in to the hunters, and your way to getting the alpha. Anything happens to me, there's no chance in hell he'll help you. So, you see, I'm more valuable to you alive than-"

"How'd you figure it out?" I interrupted him, swiftly growing tired of his rambling.

He stopped, blinking at me stupidly for a moment before scratching his ear and beginning to ramble once again, "Well it was a lot of things really. Like when you came to my house you had to be invited in, and the fact you can compel people which I know for a fact werewolves can't do, then there was also the time I caught you smuggling blood out of the hospital, the fact you lack a heartbeat, and the way you sometimes speak like you're from another era-"

"I get it," I snapped, rolling my eyes and striding over to his bed, perching on the end and folding my legs under me. "I've been shitty at keeping it a secret."

"Not-not necessarily," he mumbled, tentatively sitting down in his desk chair, eyes never straying far from my face. "I mean, nobody else noticed. So I guess I'm just more observant than most people."

We were silent, both of us staring at each other. It wasn't awkward, just a little tense; each of us wondering what to say next.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly, paling as my expression hardened into a glare. "Uh-I mean unless that's too personal..."

"I'm 203."

He looked floored by my admission, blinking those large, stupid brown eyes at me for a long moment. He seemed to be struggling to find words, but I wasn't in the mood to think of some for him, so I merely watched him impassively, I could practically see the cogs turning in his head. "Garlic."

I wasn't sure what I had been expecting, but that wasn't it. I had the feeling he had trouble concentrating on one subject at a time. I didn't mind, surprisingly I knew what he was on about. "Not a problem," I answered him with a shrug, grimacing as pain vibrated through my body at the movement.

"Mirrors?"

"Myth."

"Crucifixes?"

"Myth."

"Coffins?"

"Not since the nineteenth century."

"Huh," he hummed, crossing his arms and staring at me with a considering expression. He looked like he wanted to know more, like he had a thousand more questions, which I'm sure he probably did. I was having trouble focusing on the conversation at hand. Waves of nausea were rolling through me, and it hurt to breathe. "Are you okay?" he asked after a pregnant pause, the wheels of his chair squeaking as he rolled closer to me cautiously.

I wondered how he could stand to be so close to me, especially knowing what I was, but I didn't have the strength to ask. "No," I told him truthfully, letting my eyelids flutter closed as I took short breaths so the movement wouldn't hurt me as much. I burrowed deeper into his sweatshirt, which I had yet to take off. While a few days ago his scent had made me thirsty, now it was also accompanied by a sense of comfort. I could almost ignore the flare of hunger in my throat when I inhaled the scent clinging to his hoodie. I opened my eyes, frowning as the world suddenly tipped forwards.

"Whoa," Stiles mumbled quietly, shuffling forwards and catching my shoulders, propping me back into a sitting position. "Why'd you come here if you were so badly injured?" he asked, sounding annoyed. "This conversation could have waited until morning, you know?"

"Why won't you tell anyone?"

"Hm?" he said, popping his head back up to look at me through narrowed eyes.

I didn't have too much control over what I was saying. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I knew I had to get answers before I'd be able to get any sort of rest. "Before, you said you wouldn't tell anyone," I told him, moving my hands up and placing them over his on my shoulders, ignoring how warm his skin was and focusing my attention on his coffee coloured eyes. "Why not? What are you getting out of this?"

"Why would I be getting anything out of it?" he asked confusedly, a crease forming between his brows.

I frowned back, my head tilting to the side as I examined him carefully. "Why else would you be so nice to me?" And then, as though he'd suddenly forgotten, I reminded him, "I'm a _vampire_."

"Hey, none of that vampires-are-second-class-citizens crap," he said jokingly, his pale lips twitching up into a smile. I didn't indulge him with a smile of my own, merely frowning at him. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. What did he want from me exactly? Why did he care? There had to be an ulterior motive. The humoured expression on his face melted away and he frowned in a way that I would almost describe as _sad_. "Why are you so sure I have an ulterior motive?" he asked, practically reading my mind. I sagged, unable to hold myself up any longer. "Whoa," he muttered, catching me again, this time standing up and gently pushing me onto my back. I lay on his bed, blinking dazedly up at his cream ceiling. "You need to sleep... Wait, _do_ vampires sleep?"

"Of course we sleep," I said sluggishly, my eyes stinging as I forgot to blink. I let them shut once more, sighing tiredly and nearly rolling onto my stomach before a flash of pain reminded me of my injuries. "I can leave," I said softly, without opening my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped not unkindly, moving away from me, his feet thudding against the carpet. He returned a moment later and I felt him lay something soft and warm over me. I sighed again, a content smile spreading across my lips.

"Am I bleeding?" I asked as I felt him sit down on the edge of his bed.

"You-you want me to..."

"Lift up my shirt and tell me if the bleeding's stopped," I murmured softly, without my usual bite. I heard him swallow loudly, and he peeled back the blanket, hands shaking as he grasped the hem of his sweatshirt. "I think I figured out your ulterior motive," I said as he hesitated before slowly lifting the material. "You just wanted to get me into bed."

He spluttered suddenly, letting go of the fabric and all but leaping back. "What?!" he squeaked. "You _told _me to lift up your shirt-"

"Stiles," I said, my eyes opening just enough to peek at his panicked face. "I'm fucking with you."

He froze and I smiled, letting my eyes slide shut again. I felt more than saw him shake his head, a huff leaving his lips. After a long moment he grasped the hem of his sweatshirt, pulling it up to the base of my breasts. He didn't say anything for a long time, his breath unsteady as he stared down at me injury. Finally, I felt his hand touch the skin to the side of the gashes, and he gasped sharply, pulling away.

"Sorry," I said with a self loathing grimace. "I know I'm disgustingly cold."

"Uh," he uttered, swallowing again. "That's-that's not-"

"It's okay, Stiles," I cut him off, frowning once more before I slowly and painfully pushed myself to my elbows, forcing my eyes open. "I'll let you get some sleep."

"No!" he exclaimed suddenly, too loudly. I heard his father's snores pause for a moment in the room over, then resume at full force. I raised a single eyebrow at him, wincing in pain as the position I was holding myself in made my gashes burn. "I mean," he began, shifting back slightly on the bed and looking anywhere but at me. "You don't have to go. Its been a rough, scary night, and-and your wounds could get worse or something. So-so I think it's better if you stay, just for a few more hours," he stuttered in a way that a few days ago I would have called pathetic.

I got the feeling he was asking less for my benefit and more for his own. Surprisingly, I didn't mind. I knew calling him out on it was a bad move, plus I didn't have the strength for an argument. So I nodded and let myself collapse back onto his bed. I couldn't blame the kid for not wanting to be alone after a night like the one we'd just had, to be completely honest, I didn't particularly want to go home to my empty house either. It was stupid, I knew logically that if the alpha were to attack again, Stiles would be more of a hindrance than a help. But, a small part of me felt better having him with me. The boy who made me smile.

* * *

I tapped the egg against the side of the pan a little too hard. Yolk splashed onto the stove top and I cringed. I usually had a good handle on the whole super-strength thing, but some things, like eggs, were kind of a guessing game. I cussed loudly, picking out another one and tapping it lightly against the rim of the pan. It cracked violently, but not too much that it fell out of my hand. I managed to angle it onto the hot face of the pan. I watched the yolk bubble for a few seconds before picking up a third egg and cracking it softly once more, this time landing perfectly in the pan.

I nodded to myself reassuringly, frowning considerably before picking up the bottle vegetable oil and upending it, letting it dribble out onto the eggs. I'd seen Jamie Oliver do it once on television, but I didn't quite understand the mechanics behind it. Either way I put down the oil and picked up the fork, looking at it with focused frown before running it through the mixture in the pan. It mixed together, bubbling up and becoming an unappetising yellow colour. Did humans really eat this stuff?

"What are you doing?" a familiar voice asked amusedly from behind me, and I jumped violently, spinning around so quickly that my elbow knocked into the handle of the pan, flipping it over and causing the contents to spill down my arm.

"Fuck!" I cursed loudly once again as my skin got smeared with the boiling oil.

"OhmyGod," Stiles breathed, rushing forwards and picking up the pan, putting it back on the stove top and pushing my hand under the tap, which he turned on full blast, letting it douse my burnt arm. "Are you okay? Holy shit."

"Stiles," I said meekly, pulling out from his hold and picking up the towel I had set aside earlier. "It's okay."

"Okay?" he asked dubiously, staring at me with wide, alarmed eyes. "You just spilt searing hot oil all over your arm!"

"Stiles," I repeated calmly, holding out my reddened arm for him to see. Slowly, I dragged the towel down my injury, and he watched in morbid fascination as the burn disappeared with the path of the cloth. "See?" I said, glancing down at my unblemished skin. "All healed."

He looked kind of pale, but I decided not to comment, moving back over to the pan and staring forlornly into its depths. "What were you trying to do?"

"Cook breakfast," I admitted with a frown, pursing my lips and furrowing my brow.

"...Why?"

"Um, you let an injured, dangerous, volatile vampire sleep in your bed while you barely got any sleep on your desk chair?" I replied, turning my frown around on him. "I might be kind of new at this whole friendship thing, but it seemed like the right thing to do."

Thankfully he said nothing about the casual admittance of considering him a friend. His gaze moved from me to the blackened mess in the pan. "When was the last time you cooked?" he asked hesitantly, lips curled like he wanted to smile again but was fighting the urge.

"1997," I told him with a frown, lips twisting at his incredulous look. "I haven't had the occasion."

He snorted, gently pushing me aside and taking my spot at the stove, picking up an egg and lightly cracking it into the pan. "So what've you done with your time then?" he asked casually, though I could sense his burning curiosity underneath it all. "How does one spend eternity?"

I considered lying, making it sound more glamorous than it actually was, but what was the point? I knew one thing for sure, I definitely wouldn't be telling him of my rebellious years, the years where I'd taken so much life, drunk so blood it could fill a swimming pool. I wondered if my answer would satisfy him. "I spent a lot of it in school," I said as I slipped into a chair by the bench, idly picking at my nail polish as I talked. "The younger I pretended to be when moving to a new place, the longer I could stay."

"What's the youngest and oldest you've ever pretended to be?" he asked lightly, cracking another few eggs into the pan.

"Fifteen is the youngest," I admitted freely, folding my hands together and looking up, relieved to see he was focused on the stove in front of him and not me. "And twenty-five is the oldest. I can't get away with much more than that before people start asking questions."

"When you say you spent it in school, do you mean high school?"

"No way," I said with an unexpected laugh, making him glance over at me with a confused frown. "Most of it was in college. It was easier to do different subjects every few years instead of the same curriculum over and over."

"What'd you study?"

"A little bit of everything," I told him, smiling as I recalled my college days. "Music, medicine, art, psychology, biology, chemistry, law," I listed off a few.

He smiled back, "and what was your favourite?"

I pressed my lips together, hoping my answer wouldn't make me seem totally lame. "Literature," I admitted. "We might sleep, but we don't need nearly as much as you humans do, so I spent a lot of my nights reading."

"What do you read?"

"Everything," I said as I watched him pull bacon bits from the fridge and sprinkle them into the yellow sludge in the pan. "Biographies, Hemingway, Dickens, Emily Rodda, Edgar Allen Poe, Kurt Vonnegut is one of my absolute favourites. Not to mention good old J.K."

"Harry Potter?" he asked incredulously, stopping what he was doing and wheeling around to fix me with a dubious look. "You're kidding."

"No?" I responded in confusion, tilting my head at him curiously.

"A vampire that reads Harry Potter," he said mostly to himself, a small, amused smirk rest on his pale pink lips. "Don't tell me you read Dracula too."

"Are you going to kick me out if I tell you I read it every Halloween?" I asked with a matching smirk, and he laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls, filling me with a strange sort of warmth.

"So why high school now?" he asked me after a long moment.

I considered my answer carefully. I didn't want to go into everything with Macy, so I just kept my answer simple. "I just didn't want to have to move again so quickly," I said honestly, only lying by omission. "I wanted to put down roots, make some friends, be somebody."

"I bet you didn't factor a rouge alpha problem and a teen wolf into your plans when you picked Beacon Hills to move to," he replied with a cheeky grin, bending to slide two plates out of the cupboard to his right. I didn't say anything about how I wasn't planning to eat, keeping quiet instead. I didn't want to make him feel awkward, so I watched him load both plates up without saying anything, no matter how unappetising the food looked.

"I don't mind actually," I admitted. "Keeps me from going stir crazy."

He slid the plates onto the counter in front of us, dragging a chair across the tiles, the screeching sound making me wince. He handed me a fork as he took a seat on the bench opposite me, instantly digging into his breakfast.

"So what do you do about ID and stuff?" he asked curiously after a moment, barely noticing I'd yet to touch my food. "I mean, surely you need to it enrol in school and stuff."

"I know a guy on the east coast," I told him with a shrug, not minding that I was telling all of this to the Sheriff's son. I knew in my gut that he wouldn't say anything. "He does all my papers for me."

"Can you get me a fake ID?" he asked immediately, eyes going wide, a piece of egg falling from his lips and onto the counter.

"Yes."

"Will you?"

"No."

He crinkled his nose at me, reminding me for a second of a bunny, before he dug back into his meal, apparently getting over it quickly. "You haven't touched your food," he said after a long pause, half his plate already eaten. I picked up the fork again, nudging the mess with it cautiously. "Don't tell me you can't eat."

"Oh no," I said, shaking my head. "I can eat. I just...don't."

"Don't you like human food or something?" he asked curiously, tilting his head at me.

I shrugged, not really having an answer. "Some vampires eat all the time, I have friends who eat all three meals a day. We just don't need it to survive, and we don't crave it, so I don't really see a point in eating it."

"Well, you picked a good day to start," he said with a grin. "Scrambled eggs and bacon happens to be my specialty."

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," he hummed, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Come on, just try it," he said, blinking those large, stupid coffee eyes at me. "For me."

"Fine," I gave in reluctantly, making sure to send him a sour glare. "But not because you asked. Just because I'm curious about your cooking skills."

"Whatever you say," he said with another grin, pausing the inhaling of his food to stare at me unabashedly, waiting for my reaction.

With a cautious sigh I stuck the utensil into the pile on my plate, picking up what seemed like a decent amount and hesitating only a brief second before shoving it passed my lips. I chewed quickly, expecting it to be terrible. I was pleasantly surprised when it wasn't. The texture was kind of gross, sort of slimy and spongey, but the taste was actually rather good. "_Bellissimo, _Stiles," I told him with my kindest smile, enjoying the way his face lit up at the praise.

"You speak...Italian, was it?" he asked after a pause, where only the scraping of our forks against our plates could be heard as we ate our food.

"I'd hope so, considering I lived in Italy for seven years," I told him gently, my tone lacking its usual bite.

"Oh wow," he said, finishing the last of his eggs and putting down his fork, folding his arms on the counter and merely watched me eat. "Where else have you been?"

"Greece, Australia, Germany. Russia, Egypt, Cambodia. Spent a few years in Alaska, I raised huskies, those were a good few years," I told him, and I realised as I was speaking that it was the most I'd told anyone about myself in a long, long time. "I was born in England, you know?"

His eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah. _I do miss it sometimes but I have come to really love the States,_" I said in my English accent. It was like slipping on a hat, it was so easy to go between that and my American one.

He clapped his hands like I was a fucking trained monkey, but I found I didn't really mind, the look of wonder on his face was enough to keep me from getting irritated. "Man, you've gotta show that to Scott."

I laughed lightly, shovelling the last of my eggs into my mouth. "So what about you?" I asked casually once I'd finished my mouthful, and his face twisted in confusion.

"What about me?"

"You've had me talking about myself all morning," I said. "It's your turn to spill."

"Trust me," he scoffed. "I'm really not that interesting."

I shrugged, "I beg to differ."

I stared at him until he got uncomfortable and started rambling. "Well, I mean, I was born here. Uh, my mom died a few years back, Scott's my best friend, my favourite food is curly fries and I watch the Nightmare Before Christmas every Halloween."

I smiled at the reference to our earlier conversation, but then frowned as I remembered one other piece of information he'd left out. "And you've been in love with Lydia Martin for how long?"

"I-I..." He stuttered, red blotches appearing on his freckled skin. "Uh, how did you-"

"It's not exactly hard to tell." He looked down, something about what I'd said apparently making him feel bad. "I should go," I said regretfully after a long silence. "You need some sleep in a proper bed, and I need to go take care of some things."

"Wait," he called as I slid to my feet, and I looked at him in surprise. "Uh, how's your stomach?"

I frowned, having almost forgotten I was injured. I reached down and lifted my shirt up slightly, just enough to expose the bottom of the scratches which were already starting to turn into what would be only temporary scars. "Nothing a little more blood won't fix," I told him, cringing as I said the words. To my pleasant surprise he didn't grimace in disgust, merely nodding like I was talking about the weather. "Thanks again, Stiles," I said quietly as I stepped away from the counter. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah, see you later," he echoed halfheartedly.

"For the record, Stiles," I said, turning back around to look him in the eye. "I think you're too good for her," and with a final smile I disappeared, out the back door before he knew I was gone.

_**A/N: I have the biggest news. I met Tyler Hoechlin on the weekend. He is literally the sweetest soul, so kind and beautiful. Anyway, that's all I wanted to say, I had to brag about it to someone! Much love, let me know what you thought of this purely fluff chapter :)**_


	10. Demons

**_A/N: Hiya guys, slight Vampire Diaries crossover in this chapter, but it's okay if you don't watch it, you don't have to to understand it :)_**

* * *

_So they dug your grave_

_And the masquerade_

_Will come calling out_

_At the mess you made_

_Don't wanna let you down_

_But I am hell bound_

Demons – Imagine Dragons

* * *

I nodded along to the music playing from the turntable in the lounge, humming under my breath as I took my books off the shelves, wiping a cloth along the dusty wood and putting them back on. An annoying ringing broke the calm atmosphere, and I scowled, pulling the phone from my back pocket and answering the call.

"Hello?"

"Juliet!"

I blinked in surprise at the enthusiastic way I was greeted. "Stiles?" I asked, dropping the dirty rag to the floor and leaning against my bookshelves. "What do you want?"

"I'm-I'm trying to convince Scott that life goes on after you break up with your beau."

I pursed my lips, frowning at a stain on my carpet and asking, "Did you just say beau?" He snorted through the line and I pulled the phone from my ear, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before moving it back into place. "Are you drunk?"

"As a skunk."

This time it was me that snorted, I rolled my eyes, caught between annoyed and amused. "Why did you call me, Stiles?" I asked sternly, trying to keep the humour from my tone.

"We were talking about girls," he slurred. "And I thought, '_hey, Juliet's a girl_'."

"Very astute of you," I said sarcastically, no malice in my tone, as I fought off a smirk.

"Thank you," he said, voice overflowing with sincerity.

I rolled my eyes again, running a hand through my loose raven hair, pushing it off my face. "Was there a point to this call, or did you just want to reaffirm my gender?"

"Yes!" he responded, and I could tell he was nodding his head. "Yes, so can you please tell Scott, who's listening in by the way. Can you please tell him that there are other girls in the sea."

"How would I know that?"

"Because you've been around for like a billion years," he replied. I pursed my lips unhappily. I was only 203, and besides, I barely looked 18. "So you have lots of experience."

"Is that so?" I asked, crossing one arm over my chest and tilting my head even though he couldn't see.

"Yeah," he mumbled, sounding distracted and thoughtful before he said, "do you have a boyfriend?"

I looked at the roof, praying to every God I'd ever heard of to grant me patience. "No, Stiles," I said, succeeding in sounding only slightly annoyed. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

I chuckled, and found myself not minding that he heard. "No girlfriend either."

"Good."

I blinked, fixing my eyes on the light in the centre of the room. "Good?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, sounding much more confident yet very blaze. "Good." He was quiet for a long moment, nothing but the sound of his breathing echoing across the line. "I don't get why," he said thoughtfully. "I mean, I get that you come off a little rude and intimidating and honestly not very likeable at all."

I clenched my teeth, irritation growing within me. "Is there a point to this?"

"But that's just first impressions," he continued loudly. "I mean, once you get to know you, you're actually pretty cool, and tough, and still quite intimidating and mean but _very _beautiful."

"I'm a vampire, Stiles," I drawled, sounding as unimpressed as I felt. "We're all beautiful."

"And you're confident," he paused for a moment, and I could hear him thinking through the connection. "So is Lydia." I bit my tongue, forcing back an irritated growl. "And she's _really_ pretty. And she doesn't eat people, which is always a plus."

"I'm going now," I said bluntly.

"No! No, wait-"

I didn't wait to see what he'd say next, merely ending the call and carelessly throwing my phone onto the couch. I frowned at the red fabric of the old pieces of furniture, my brow furrowed. I wasn't sure why I was so annoyed, I put it down to not appreciating being called while drunk and turned back to my bookcase. My books were more important than that kid anyway.

* * *

The next day the school was open again, and part of me was relieved. I'd been going stir crazy locked away in my house. Allison had called numerous times, she couldn't get together, all she wanted to do was talk. Mostly about Scott. I don't know why I was her first choice, the last thing I wanted was to come across as approachable, but apparently no matter how hard I tried somehow the humans kept coming at me like flies to honey.

"What am I going to do when I see Scott?" Allison asked, falling into step beside me, undeterred by my stormy glare. "How am I supposed to act?"

"I don't care," I replied tonelessly, and she faltered for a moment before rolling her eyes and carrying on.

"Come on," she said, grasping on to the sleeve of my trench coat and tugging. "This is serious."

I took a deep breath in, grinding my teeth together before deciding playing along would get me out of the situation sooner. "Ignore him," I told her, lifting one shoulder and letting it drop.

I glanced at her, she had her glossy lips pressed together and was frowning at the floor thoughtfully. "And if he talks to me?" she asked, still hanging onto my arm as I instinctively guided her around a small group of freshmen.

"Tell him to leave you alone or Juliet will kick his ass," I told her simply as we paused outside of the classroom our third period test was in. Her face brightened for a split second before dimming again, her earlier sadness overtaking her.

"That's something I'd pay to see," she said with a forced smile, looking me over like she knew there was no chance I could actually go through with it. I smirked, gently unwinding our arms and moving into the room, heading for a seat at the back.

I slid into the chair, crossing one leg over the other and staring stonily at the far wall. "_Psst_," a voice to my right hissed, and I looked over at Stiles, raising a single eyebrow expectantly as I watched the jittery boy tap his pen against the wood of the desk. He blinked in surprise when met with my blank stare, but, like Allison, quickly moved past it. "Do you think you'll pass?" he whispered curiously.

"Considering I've taken this class seven times before," I began with a curled lip, keeping my voice just quiet enough not to be overheard, "I'd say it's pretty damn likely."

His nose crinkled like I'd said something distasteful, and I absolutely did not find it cute. "Wanna impart some of your wisdom unto me?" he asked hopefully, leaning further across the gap between our seats. I didn't dignify that with a response, instead levelling him with a flat, unimpressed stare. His expression fell and he grumbled unintelligently under his breath, moving back to sit properly on his seat and pout immaturely.

I caught a whiff of wet dog as Scott stepped into the room, and I glanced at Allison, listening to the sound of her heart picking up. "Allison," the kid said, stopping in front of her desk at looking at her with those heartbroken puppy-dog eyes.

"Mr McCall," Harris said loudly, leaning into his view. "Please take a seat." Scott grit his teeth but complied, silently stepping up to his desk, the one in front of Stiles, and sliding into his seat, gently placing his bag on the floor. "You have forty-five minutes to complete the test," the teacher said, standing behind his podium and staring at the small sea of students with blank eyes. "Twenty-five percent of your grade can be earned right now simply by writing your name on the cover of the blue book." There was a rustle of paper beside me and I glanced across the isle, my lips twitching up into a humoured smirk as I watched Stiles eagerly scribble his name in blue biro. I moved to do the same, the smirk sitting comfortably on my lips as I slowly wrote my name in perfect nineteenth-century calligraphy. "Begin," Harris said after a long moment of rambling about disappointment, clicking the start button on his timer.

I opened the booklet, already bored with the whole thing. I sighed, my eyes flickering over the words and circling the correct answers after only a moment. I was on the second page a few moments later when I decided to slow down, the faster I went the sooner I'd be done, but if I was done too quickly I'd be stuck without anything to do. "Is the answer to question three 'A'?" Stiles asked, his voice barely carrying on his breath as he not-so-subtly side-eyed me. Not in the mood, my hand shot out and slowly I lifted a single finger in the air for him to view. "I'll take that as a no."

Despite myself I smirked again, though the expression quickly melted when I heard the distinctive sound of a heart to my right begin to pick up speed. It wouldn't have concerned me if I hadn't known there was a young, volatile werewolf in the room with me. I frowned, my pen pausing where it was on the page mid-word.

I slid my gaze to Scott, watching as he glanced around wildly, heart slamming against his sternum. I had a few options here: I could let him work through it, maybe he'd get better maybe he'd get worse, either way it was up to him; I could let him figure out he had to get out of here himself; or, I could take matters into my own hands.

I knew which option I had to choose, my new-found humanity didn't give me a choice, either I dealt with it or people could die. With an irritated sigh I dropped my pen, standing up somewhat violently, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. Every head in the room turned to look at me, but I paid them zero mind, focusing on stalking the few steps over to Scott's desk and grasping him by the collar. He barely fought me, allowing me to yank him to his feet and drag him from the room.

"Ms Cooper!" Harris called furiously as I yanked him through the door, not bothering to cast a look back. "Mr McCall!" The was a beat of silence before, "Mr Stilinski!" I huffed in exasperation as I heard him call the last name, but didn't slow down to let the human catch up.

"Juliet-" Scott tried but I ignored him, dragging him further down the hall, away from any potential casualties. "Locker room," he growled, and I knew what he meant. He was still in the right frame of mind to be able to tell me where he thought he'd be safest and least likely to hurt anyone. I didn't chance letting him go though, pulling him by the collar to the right down a hall and into the boy's locker room.

What to do from there was surprisingly obvious, I all but threw him onto the floor in the showers, slipping closer to him to ensure he wouldn't escape and turning the knobs, cold water spilling out over both of us. I grit my teeth in irritation but didn't say anything, waiting for him to find his feet on his own.

"Scott?" Stiles' voice echoed through the empty halls. "Juliet?! Scott?!"

There was a moment of silence and then Scott's phone began to ring from his rapidly soaking pocket. The sound bounced around the ceramic walls, and footsteps slowly began to make their way towards our position. I didn't move, standing over a panting Scott, my hands braced on the wall as I watched him carefully, looking for any small sign he was going to try and escape. He thrashed against the wet tile, all but ripping off his top, allowing the water to cool his heated skin.

"Stiles," he gasped as his best friend approached, stepping into the room, his shoes no doubt getting wet. "I can't-"

"What's wrong? Are you changing?" the boy asked worriedly as I cautiously turned off the water, the cool water dripping on me twice more before stopping completely.

"No," he said, sounding pained. "I can't breathe."

"Here," Stiles said, lifting up the bag I assumed to be Scott's and digging around in it, holding out an old puffer for the teen wolf to use. "Use this," at his words the boy stared, perplexed by his suggestion. "Come on," he prompted impatiently even as the wolf gasped for air. "Use it."

Scott grabbed for the puffer, wrapping his lips around it and taking a deep breath in. There was a pregnant pause before the boy perked up, slowly sliding to his feet, his heart finally slowing. I stepped to the side, running a hand through my wet hair to push it out of my eyes, and staying close to his side, just in case he snapped again. "I was having an asthma attack?" he asked confusedly.

"No," Stiles answered, rocking forwards on his heels. "You were having a panic attack. But thinking you were having an asthma attack actually stopped the panic attack," he divulged, hands gesturing wildly. "Irony," he sang, and I had to hold back a smile.

"How did you know to do that?"

"I used to get them after my mom died," Stiles said, and something deep within me twinged. I tried keep how it affected me from showing on my face, but I don't think I succeeded, because Stiles' gaze flickered to me before focusing back on his friend. "Not fun, huh?"

"I looked at her and it was like somebody hit me in the ribs with a hammer," he admitted, breathing heavily and trying to make sense of it all in his head.

"Yeah, it's called heartbreak," Stiles replied, brows lifting as he spoke. "About two billion songs written about it."

"I can't stop thinking about her," Scott said, and I leaned my weight against the wall, rolling my eyes, already wishing I was anywhere else.

"Well you could think about this: her dad's a werewolf hunter and you're a werewolf so...bound to become an issue," he told him with a small laugh. Scott shot him a pained look and the boy grimaced, "that wasn't helpful...God. Dude, I mean yeah, you got dumped but it's supposed to suck."

"No, that's not it. It was like I could feel everything in the room, I could feel everyone's emotions."

"That would be the full moon," I spoke up, reminding them that I was there. "I mean, I may not know much about werewolf biological chemistry," I said casually, lifting one heavy weighed down with water shoulder and letting it drop. "But I know one thing. Full moon equals bad news."

"So we'll lock you up in your room later just like we planned," Stiles continued. "That way the alpha, who's your boss, can't get to you either."

"I think we need to do a lot more than lock me in my room," Scott responded darkly, frowning at the floor.

"What, you mean because if you get out you'll be caught by hunters?"

"No," he shook his head. "Because if I get out, I think I might kill someone."

Stiles didn't say anything for a long moment, considering his friend carefully. "Okay," he nodded, taking the words in his stride and looking up at me, very obviously working hard to keep his eyes from my see-through shirt. "Juliet can stay too."

"Excuse me?" I asked, arching a single eyebrow at him, my expression dangerous, though it did little to deter him.

"Yeah," he said, nodding along to his own idea. "You can come to Scott's house tonight and guard him while he's under the spell of the moon."

I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest and staring at him incredulously. "Under the spell of the-"

"That way if he escapes or anything, you'll be there to do damage control," he said, perking up as he divulged his brilliant idea.

"Who says I'll be willing to help?" I asked sourly, but Stiles only chortled like I'd made a joke. I growled quietly as an outlet for my anger but otherwise didn't respond. I turned to Scott, who was still leaned against the wall, clearly exhausted from his panic attack. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked him as gently as I could, worried he was going to start hyperventilating again or something.

"Yeah," he nodded, not sounding very confident in his answer.

I awkwardly raised my hand, going to pat him on the shoulder, but ultimately decided against it, letting it drop back to my side. "Call if you need anything," I said with an accompanying glare that very obviously warned them not to need anything. I slipped passed Stiles, probably looking very much like a drowned kitten, my shoes squeaking loudly and slightly embarrassingly as I stormed from the room, wet footprints the only proof I was ever there.

* * *

I took in a deep drag of my cigarette, holding the smoke in my lungs for a good few seconds before blowing it out of the corner of my mouth. "Heading to watch practise?" a familiar voice asked, and I looked to my left to see Allison sitting on a bench near the road, ankles crossed daintily, phone in her hand.

"Home actually," I told her, flicking the ash from the end of my stick and shifting the weight of the bag on my shoulder.

"Is Scott okay?"

I peered at her over the top of my sunglasses. She looked sheepish to be asking, but like she couldn't help herself. "He'll be fine," I said carefully, taking another deep breath of chemicals. She continued to stare up at me worriedly, a little crease appearing between her brows. "Panic attack," I elaborated, flicking the ash from the tip of my cigarette.

She slumped her shoulders, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth and gazing sorrowfully at the cracked concrete by her feet. I felt like I should say something, though I didn't have the slightest clue what. "Uh," I began awkwardly, peeking up at the sky to avoid her eyes. "I would have done the same thing in your situation."

She was quiet, but I didn't chance a look down at her, the last thing I wanted was to be sucked into that doe-eyed expression of hers. "Why do I get the feeling you know exactly what happened that night?"

It was a fair enough question, also completely and entirely correct. My lips twitched and I pressed them together to contain my bitter smile. "Probably because I do know exactly what happened that night."

"Let me guess," she began, a frown marring her face. "You can't tell me."

"Not my secret to tell," I shrugged honestly. I figured I'd best move on before she started asking questions I _really_ couldn't answer. "I'll see you later, Allison."

"But Juliet-"

I didn't give her a chance to sink those blunt little nails of hers in, merely turning away and heading down the path heading east, where I could take a shortcut through the woods to my house. I walked at a human pace, not caring enough to speed, taking my time climbing over fallen trees and winding through a labyrinth of ferns. I was only a few minutes away from my house when my phone began buzzing from my pocket.

It was an unknown number, but I answered it anyway, otherwise they would probably just keep calling. "Hello?" I said into the phone, stepping over a thick log, my boots sinking slightly into the soft, moist earth.

"Well, well, well," the familiar voice on the other end of the call said. "If it isn't little miss Adams. I didn't think you'd actually answer."

"I'm a barrel of surprises today," I told my old friend (and I use that term loosely). "What can I do for you?" I asked, my tone making it clear I wasn't in the mood to be doing any favours.

"You could come down to Virginia," he replied, and I could hear the coy smirk in his voice. "I'm at a bar with a mutual old friend of ours, figured you might like to join."

"Wish I could," I said, obviously wishing the opposite. "But unfortunately I'm on the west coast at the moment, a little town known as Beacon Hills."

"You mean the Californian central for all things supernatural?"

"You're not wrong," I hummed, stepping from the trees and crossing my backyard, the top of the grass brushing my thighs. I really needed to do some maintenance on the dump.

"What the hell are you doing there?" he asked me as I made my way up the old wooden porch stairs and across to the backdoor, which I'd left unlocked.

I shrugged, although he couldn't see it. "Needed a change, figured it was as good a place as any."

"Run into any Big-Bads?"

"As a matter of fact, we do have a little bit of a rouge, murderous, psychotic alpha problem over here," I said, slipping my bag off my shoulder and dropping it onto the dining room table. "Don't reckon you fancy coming over to lend a hand?"

"Sorry Juliet," he responded, clearly not sorry in the slightest. "Got enough problems of our own here in Mystic Falls."

"Katherine still giving you trouble?"

"Please," he scoffed through the line. "That bitch is harmless these days. I'm talking serious problems, as in, _Original_ problems."

It took me a long moment to process what he meant, and by the time it'd sunk in I was practically gaping at the far wall. I was about to say something when my attention snapped to the Jeep pulling up in my drive. "I have to go," I said in annoyance. "But I'm calling back later and I expect _every last detail_."

"You got it Princess."

I growled in frustration, pulling the phone from my ear and ending the call before he could say anything else, tossing it onto a bench and stalking to the door. I took a deep breath, calming myself down before turning the handle, revealing a flustered Stiles, fist held up ready to knock.

He looked surprised to see me there, which was odd, considering it was my house. "Yes?" I asked levelly, raising a single eyebrow at him.

"Uh, I'm here to pick you up?" he said, sounding completely unsure of himself. "You know, for the full moon tonight?"

I watched him closely before glancing up at the sun, determining it's position in the sky. "Shouldn't you still be at practise?" I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning on the doorframe.

"Uh, that's another thing..." he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

I rolled my eyes, stepping back and gesturing for him to come through. "Come on," I said, sharp and to the point. "I need to eat before we go anyway, might as well tell me while I do it."

He nodded once, a jerky movement, before slipping through the door, his sneakers squeaking against the polished wooden floor. I shut the door behind him, moving through the hall and into the kitchen. Stiles stared at everything in sight, drinking it all in. I pushed him in the direction of the barstools lined by the bench, and he stumbled into one as I wandered over to the fridge, pulling out a blood packet. Behind me, Stiles gagged.

"What?" I asked with a frown and I moved over to the microwave, putting the bag in the machine and turning it on, the inside lighting up, a soft humming noise filling the room. "I told you I was eating," I said defensively, suddenly wondering if it had been such a good idea. What if it was too much and he decided he could never look me in the eye again? Would I care? Probably.

"Yeah, I just thought you meant like, cold pizza or a burrito or something," he mumbled in reply, and I gave an unamused chuckle, leaning back against the bench as I waited for him to speak. He took my queue, resting his forearms on the bench and launching into his story. "So Scott completely attacked Danny at practise today." He paused, apparently waiting for something, though I just stared back stonily. His nose crinkled with something like disapproval, but he continued anyway. "He's _fine_, by the way." Oh, right..._Compassion_.

"Where's Scott now?" I asked, not sure what else to say.

"We're meeting him at his house," he said distractedly, a furious scowl appearing on his lips. "You know what else he did?" he barrelled on. "He kissed Lydia!"

"_No_!" I gasped dramatically, as though I were in any way emotionally invested.

"_Yes_!" he responded loudly, oblivious to my sarcasm. "He told me he was going to find out if she liked me, then he totally made out with her."

"What a dog!" I exclaimed as the microwave beeped. I pulled it open and slipped out the warmed blood bag, tearing off the stopper and putting the tube to my lips.

"Yeah, he's totally-" he cut himself off, glaring at me suspiciously. "You don't care, do you?"

"Not in the slightest."

He sighed, blinking rapidly as he caught sight of the blood travelling up the tube and to my lips and grimacing in disgust. Something about the expression made my stomach clench unpleasantly, but I ignored it, trying not to think about it and focusing on the feeling of contented bliss the liquid gave me.

I continued to drink, ignoring how uncomfortable he seemed. "Who's that?" he asked after a moment, obviously desperate to have the conversation off the topic of my diet. I followed his line of sight, my eyes resting on a single framed picture hanging in the entryway.

"That's Macy," I said, giving no further explanation.

"Who's Macy?" he asked, pushing harder. I frowned but decided there was no harm in telling the boy.

"She's my last living descendant," I said, immediately cringing as the words came out. "_Was_ my last living descendant, I suppose."

He was quiet for a long time but I didn't look at him, keeping my eyes trained on the photograph. "When did she pass?" he asked in what was a surprisingly gentle tone.

"Just under a year, now," I told him, licking away a drop of blood that dripped from my lips. I figured I'd already gone that far, maybe if he knew everything, just maybe this whole 'friendship' thing might actually work out. "She's the reason I don't kill anyone," I admitted before I fully knew what I was doing. Stiles' eyes widened in shock. "She made me promise to be better. So I left my old life behind, moved here and steal from the hospital to get by."

"Are there others?" he asked quietly. "Like you?"

"Other vampires?" He nodded and I drank the last of my meal before rolling up the empty bag and shoving it in the trash under my sink. "Of course there are. There're hundreds of us all over the world. Thousands, even. We're much more common than werewolves, that's for sure."

"Why?"

"Because a very long time ago a very old vampire killed them all off until there were so few left that everyone questioned whether they were actually real in the first place." I glanced at the Grandfather clock in the corner, taking in the time before looking through the window at the sky. "That's enough of the supernatural history lesson for one night," I told him, zipping up my leather jacket and picking up my things. "We should head to Scott's."

"Yeah," he nodded, though clearly his mind was on other things. I led him through the house and out the door, this time locking it behind me before joining him in the Jeep.

"I assume you have the chains and handcuffs and the like?" I said, shifting in my seat to face him, watching as he glanced at his blind spot before turning down a side street.

"Of course," he replied, gesturing with his thumb to the duffel bag sitting on the backseat. I reached back, pulling it open to glance inside.

"Impressive," I told him, sitting back properly, facing the front.

"Just call me Mr BDSM." I let that comment sit for a long moment, watching from the corner of my eye as he slowly flushed red. "I don't know why I said that," he said uncomfortably, shifting in the seat and we turned down another street. I chuckled quietly, rolling my eyes at him in a way that was not even slightly _fond _as he pulled up outside what I was sure was Scott's house. "Come on," he said, the blotchy red marks slowly fading from his pale skin.

I slid out of the car, shoving my hands in my pockets and following him up the drive. I heard movement from inside, but didn't question it, trusting the boy knew what he was doing as I watched him pull out a key and slide it into the lock.

"Scott?" a kind voice asked as he stepped inside, while I hung back, obviously realising something Stiles hadn't.

"Stiles," he chimed awkwardly as a pretty woman stepped around the corner.

"Plus one," I added from over the threshold, waving at the lady politely.

"Key," she said after a moment, staring at the key in the boy's hand.

"Yeah, I had one made..." he replied, completely unaware of how weird he was being. I resisted the urge to face-palm, instead closing my eyes and begging for patience.

"That doesn't surprise me. Scares me, but doesn't surprise me."

Stiles smiled good-naturedly, letting the duffel slip from his grip and hit the floor with a _thunk._

"What is that?" she asked, raising her delicate eyebrows.

"Uh, school project."

"Uh huh," she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously before focusing on me standing awkwardly behind him, still standing out in the cool night air. "And _who_ is that?"

Stiles spun around, staring at me where I stood, looking wildly between me and the threshold before smacking the heel of his hand to his head. "Oh man, I completely forgot!"

"Juliet Cooper, ma'am," I introduced myself respectfully, ignoring how obvious the boy was being, keeping my hands in my pockets as I knew I wouldn't be able to lean through the barrier. "I'm a friend of Stiles and your son."

"Please, call me Melissa," she responded with a kind smile before looking between Stiles and I suspiciously.

"Uh, she's helping Scott and I with the project," he supplied, getting his act together and focusing on the task at hand, though he still looked uneasy about the whole barrier thing.

"May I?" I asked politely, gesturing to the inside of her home.

"Oh, of course," she said, nodding me through. "Please, come in, don't stand out in the cold."

I smiled gratefully as she said those magic little words, glancing at Stiles with a smug smirk before cautiously pushing one leg through the barrier that was now completely gone. I stepped all the way inside, huddling into my jacket as though it were possible for me to get cold.

"Now that I think about it, I remember Scott mentioning a Juliet a few times before. Are you new to town?"

"Yes, I am," I replied with a bow of my head. "I was just emancipated from my family a few months ago, I moved here for a fresh start."

"Oh," she said, clearly taken aback by my statement. Her smile faltered with sympathy for a long moment before it was back in place. "Well, if you ever need anything..."

"Thank you," I said, a sincere smile of my own spreading across my red painted lips.

I stepped out of her way, letting her shuffle passed me, obviously on her way to work judging by the nursing scrubs she was wearing. "Stiles, he's okay, right?" she asked quietly, pausing at the door while I moved over to the set of frames hung on the far wall, pretending like I couldn't hear every word they were saying.

"Who? Scott?" Stiles asked loudly. "Yeah. Totally."

"He just doesn't talk to me that much anymore, not like he used to."

"Well he's had a bit of a rough week."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she sighed, before perking up. "Okay, you know be careful tonight. Both of you."

I wandered back over, the conversation no long private. "You too," Stiles said, making reassuring finger pistols at her.

"Full moon."

Both of us froze, staring at her with wide eyes. Did she know? "What?"

"There's a full moon tonight," she responded innocently with a small laugh. "You should see how the ER gets. It brings out all the nut-jobs."

Stiles very obviously sagged with relief while I was much more subtle, my clenched fists relaxing. "Right," he chuckled, playing it off.

"You know, it's actually where they came up with the word 'lunatic'."

With a final welcoming smile to me and a pat on the back for Stiles she was out the door, pulling it shut behind her. I tilted my head to the side, listening to the sound of a heartbeat pumping steadily from upstairs. I followed the sound, silently padding up the stairs, rolling my eyes at how loud Stiles was in comparison. I slipped into the room, my eyes adjusting to the darkness easily as I watched Scott sit in a chair in the corner, staring steadily back. "Hey, how'd you know which-" a loud scream abruptly stopped his words as he flicked the light on and spotted Scott sitting in the corner. "Oh my _God!_" he huffed, and even though his reaction was hilarious, something about the look in Scott's eyes made it impossible for me to force a smile on my lips. "Dude, you scared the hell out of me." He turned to me, nudging me in the shoulder with annoyance. "A little warning would have been nice," he looked back at the wolf, "we thought you weren't home yet?"

"I came in through the window."

"Okay," he said in response to his friend's deadpan. "Well, let's get this stuff set up. Wait until you see what I've bought."

"I'm fine. I'm just going to lock the door and go to bed early tonight."

"You sure about that?" Stiles asked, looking up from where he was crouched by the bag of chains. "'Cause you've got this kinda serial killer look going on in your eyes and I'm hoping it's the full moon taking affect because it's really starting to freak me out."

I leaned against the wall, trying not to blink so I didn't for a second take my eyes from the dangerous teen wolf. "I'm fine," Scott said darkly. "You should both go now."

Stiles looked over his shoulder at me, but I didn't look back, merely shaking my head negatively, his heart racing with worry. "Alright, I'll leave," he said, looking back at his friend. "Look, would you at least look in the bag and see what I've bought?"

He slowly pushed himself from the armchair, moving over and kneeling by the duffel. "You think I'm going to let you put these on? Chain me up like a dog?" I bit back a smart remark about how he _was_ a dog, figuring that would only inflame the situation.

"Actually no." Even I was surprised when the human boy leapt forwards, tugging the handcuffs free and quick as lightening cuffed him to the radiator.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Scott yelled, enraged.

"Protecting you from yourself," Stiles retorted darkly, stepping out of the wolf's reach. "And giving you some payback for making out with Lydia."

I let my eyes slide shut and I took a deep breath, mentally rolling my eyes at the petty boy with a crush. "Stiles, let me out _now_," he growled, pulling at the thin metal of the cuffs. "Juliet," he tried a different tactic, looking up at me with wide, puppy-dog eyes. "Come on, you know I'm not a danger to anyone. I don't deserve this."

Stiles scoffed, turning on his heel and storming from the room. I stayed where I was, unwilling to look away from Scott for even a second.

"Come on, Juliet," he said, voice saccharine and desperate. I kept my arms crossed tightly, glaring at him stonily, unwavering in my caution. When I didn't move his voice darkened along with his eyes. "Of course not," he muttered bitterly. "You're just a soulless vampire, incapable of compassion." My expression didn't so much as flinch, but internally something in my chest squeezed painfully when his words hit home. "No one here is every going to love you. Not really," he continued, eyes a glowing amber. "Not me, not Allison, and _certainly_ not Stiles."

My jaw clenched, teeth grinding together, every instinct in me screaming to attack. But I was too wise for that, I'd been around too long to let him get the better of me.

Stiles reappeared a few minutes later, water bottle and dog bowl in hand. "I brought you some water," he said, holding up the bowl with the werewolf's name written on the side and pouring the water in with a cocky smirk that I absolutely did _not _find attractive, completely oblivious to what had just happened while he was gone.

"_I'm gonna kill you_!" Scott snarled the second the boy's back was turned, the bowl flying through the air on a collision course with his head. I stretched out a hand, plucking it from the air with ease, letting it drop harmlessly to my feet.

"You kissed her Scott? Okay? You kissed Lydia," I rolled my eyes at where the conversation was going but otherwise didn't comment. I listened to them argue, listened to Stiles tell him what a shit friend he was as Scott goaded him, teasing him with a smirk. Eventually the human boy had had enough, unable to take it any more he slipped from the room, his heart pounding violently against his chest. I looked between Scott and the doorway, ultimately deciding that it made more sense to check if Stiles was okay. I didn't want him to have a panic attack or something, and Scott wasn't going anywhere. With a sigh and a warning glare at Scott I rounded the corner, stopping dead as I saw Stiles curled up in a ball on the floor just outside the room.

I stared at him for a long moment, watching the way his arms curled tightly around his knees, taking deep, calming breaths. Hesitantly I pressed myself to the wall and slowly slid down until I sat beside the boy. I let my legs spread out, leaning so close to him that I could feel his body warmth heating up my own stone cold flesh.

I stared at the far wall, counting the cracks in the paint as I listened to Stiles' heart slowly calm itself. "Are you okay?" I asked him after at least a good ten minutes. He sighed, pressing his forehead to his knees before sitting up properly. I felt rather than saw his head turn towards me, feeling his eyes on the side of my face. I pretended I couldn't though, continuing to stare expressionlessly at the wall.

He watched me for a long time before finally speaking. "I will be," he sighed, resting his chin on his arm and keeping his eyes on me. "Once this damn night is over."

"Yeah," I agreed, huffing out a breath, the force blowing a piece of hair from my face, only for it to float back into place a moment later.

"Are you okay?" I looked at him in surprise. He ducked his head somewhat sheepishly. "I heard him yelling at you." If it were possible, my face would have paled. "I couldn't make out what he was saying through the floorboards, I could just hear him yelling. I'm sure whatever it was wasn't compliments on your hair." I didn't say anything. I didn't even know if I _was_ okay. I was still relatively new to the whole 'emotions' deal, was what I was feeling hurt? "I'm sure whatever it was was a lie."

"You didn't hear him," I said, surprising even myself. I sounded sad, so that must have been how I felt? "I've never heard anything so true."

He shifted, his arm moving like he was going to put it around me but he changed his mind at the last minute. I wasn't upset, I wouldn't want to put my arm around a dead girl either. I opened my mouth to say something else (though I wasn't sure what) when a scent caught my attention. A very strong, very irresistible scent. A gasp escaped my mouth and every muscle in me tensed. "Juliet?" Stiles asked worriedly, noticing that I'd stopped breathing. He peered around the corner at Scott, eyes widening as he spotted the bloody wound that had appeared on his wrist from tugging at the cuffs. He snapped back into place, heart picking up once more, clearly stressed.

I don't know what I was expecting him to do, but slide his hand into mine certainly wasn't it. I tensed even more, but he didn't let go. While I would usually only feel hungrier when faced with the warm blood pumping under the skin, something about this offered me only comfort.

"You fed only an hour ago," he said, winding his fingers through mine and squeezing. "Besides, it's werewolf blood, and last I heard, that was the most disgusting kinda blood."

Despite myself a spluttered laugh managed to escape me.

"I'm no expert, but maybe take a few breaths? Get used to it?" he offered, and I found it entirely sweet how he was trying so hard to help. Though I was sure it was a bad idea, I did as asked and slowly took a deep breath in. Considering I was so full of blood that my stomach felt sloshy, it was relatively easy to stop myself from giving over to the bloodlust. "You alright?" he asked softly after a long couple of minutes, squeezing my hand again.

"Yeah," I nodded, taking another experimental breath in, letting the taste scent of the blood sit with me for a moment before letting it out. I looked up at him, reluctant to say anything but feeling like I should. He looked back down at me, a soft sort of worry on his face. "Thank you."

"All in a days work," he responded cheekily, and for a split second we forgot that there was a potentially homicidal werewolf cuffed to the radiator a room over.

"Stiles, please let me out."

All at once any pleasant emotions drained from us, dread once again filling our expressions. I pasted an indifferent mask over my face, turning back to face the opposite wall, however my hand didn't for a moment slip from Stiles'.

"It's the full moon, I swear," Scott panted from the other room. "You know I wouldn't do any of this on purpose. Please Stiles, let me out, it's starting to hurt. It's not like the first time. It's the full moon. It's Allison breaking up with me," he continued. I rolled my eyes, tipping my head back until it thumped against the wall. "I know that it's not just 'taking a break'. She broke up with me, and it's killing me. I feel completely hopeless. Just please, let me out."

Stiles' heartbeat picked up again, and he squeezed my hand so hard that if I were human something may have snapped. He glanced at me, and I could see the turmoil in his head. He pleaded with his eyes, begging me to help him. I squeezed his hand back, meeting his gaze and shaking my head softly.

"I can't," he finally said, defeat in his gaze as he dropped his forehead to rest on my shoulder. I stared down at the boy with wide, shocked eyes. What did someone do in this sort of situation? Should I push him off? Awkwardly slide out from under him? Yell at him? After a long minute I decided that if this was somehow comforting to the boy, then there was no harm in letting him continue to do it. He gave off so much heat, it was like someone was pressing an iron to my shoulder, I could feel the warmth even through my leather jacket.

In his bedroom, Scott began to scream. I felt Stiles wince as he clutched my hand tighter, I had no idea how he could stand the temperature of my dead flesh, but he didn't seem to mind, curling further in on himself, and therefore, me. If I had a heartbeat, it would have gone off the charts.

Scott continued to scream, and Stiles continued to freak out, and I continued to feel awkward but not entirely uncomfortable. Then I heard the faint sound of metal breaking apart, and footsteps on the ground outside. I shot up, all but shoving Stiles off of me as I disappeared, reappearing in Scott's bedroom, staring in horror at the snapped cuffs and pool of blood beneath them.

"Scott?" Stiles called worriedly, rushing into the room behind me. "Oh my God," he muttered, staring out the window, dread on his features.

"I'll follow him, keep him out of trouble," I said, stepping over the blood and slipping one leg out the window.

"What if he bites you?" he asked, a severe frown on his lips. I shrugged; I didn't have a good answer. "Just..." he began, clenching his hands into fists like he didn't know what to do with them. "Be careful."

I took the time to look back, throwing the boy my brightest and hopefully most reassuring smile before I launched myself from the windowsill. I landed on my feet and took off running, following the scent of wet dog leading down the street. He'd taken off into the forest, but it was easier to track him there with his scent rubbed off on the logs and trees. I still wasn't an expert on the town, so I had no idea where he was heading. I followed at a safe distance, I figured trying to keep him held down would only equal permanent death for me, so I stayed back, running behind him, making sure he didn't come across any campers or anything of the sort.

He seemed like he was running with a purpose, so I wasn't too surprised when he darted from the forest and into a parking lot, leaping onto the top of a beat up old car and peering through the darkness at something. I could clearly see and hear Allison and Jackson in a car on the other end of the lot.

I sighed, mentally rolling up my sleeves and preparing to take a run at him. Out of nowhere a figure leapt from the shadows, crashing into Scott and sending them both flying off the edge of the hill at the end of the lot. My eyes widened and darted after them, reappearing behind a tree only a few feet from where the two fought. Judging by the smell it was Derek Hale, and my eyebrows raised as I watched the two wolves fight it out.

"A little help?" Derek growled and he took a swipe at the teen wolf. I stepped out into the open, fangs slipping from my gums, blood draining to my eyes. I met them in the middle, grabbing Scott by the scruff and holding him up for Derek to get a good punch in. I let him go as his fist connected with his face, allowing the force to throw him to the forest floor.

Derek immediately crouched down, snarling in the teen's face. Scott scrambled back, trying to put some distance between he and the older wolf. Derek stepped closer, his features melting away until he was left looking human once again.

"What's happening to me?" Scott asked, breathing heavily. I relaxed my hands, a slight sting as my fangs disappeared back up into my gums, and the blood left my eyes, the veins around them disappearing.

"Exactly what he wants to happen," Derek said stonily, peering down at the boy through the darkness. Scott sagged, holding his head in his hands.

I shifted my weight, looking at Derek with a smirk. "Congratulations on not being dead."

"I'd say the same to you but last time I checked..." he trailed off, I would have even called it playful if not for the severe look in his eyes.

I crinkled my nose at him but didn't take the bait, instead rolling my eyes and taking a step closer to a shaking Scott. I crouched down to his level waiting impatiently for him to look up at me. He finally did, eyes round and innocent. "Are you going to be okay with Derek?" I asked him softly, trying to be as gentle with the kid as I could. "I should go find Stiles, no doubt he's looking all over for you; freaking out."

"Yeah," he said, sounding choked. "I'll be fine."

I awkwardly reached out, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "Everything will be fine, Scott," I told him in what was hopefully a reassuring way. "You'll see."

"'Cause you're the eternal optimist," he responded sarcastically, taking a page from Stiles' book.

My lips twitched up. "At least something good came out of tonight," I said with a teasing smirk. "You gained a sense of humour."

He looked like he was trying to grin back, but it came across as more of a grimace. I patted him one last time before sliding to me feet, shooting Derek a serious look. "Take him straight home," I told him sternly.

He looked like he wanted to snap back, but after taking a look at the boy changed his mind, simply nodding before bending down to help him to his feet. I watched them for one more moment before turning around and fading into the night.


	11. Ragged Company

_I'm cursing like a sailor and lying like a thief_

_It's hard to heed the calling from the better side of me_

_When I'm blaming everybody else and no one's coming clean_

Ragged Company – Grace Potter

* * *

"When you asked me to help you tonight, this wasn't what I had in mind," I yelled over the sound of sirens, leaping over a fallen support beam with ease, grabbing hold of Derek's jacket and yanking him faster across the uneven ground, his feet sliding on the loose gravel.

"Shut up and run," he snapped back as I took a sharp left turn, one hand going up to my hood to make sure the black material hadn't fallen down. The hunters knew who I was, but if the cops found out it would make things even more difficult for me, it was hard enough to stay under the radar as it was, I didn't need a BOLO attached to my falsified record.

"Where are they?" I asked as we turned down another street, dodging the hood of a police car as it pulled out in front of us.

"I can hear them, they're only a block over," he panted. I clenched my jaw and pushed myself harder, while making sure I didn't go so fast that I lost Derek. I'd never hear the end of that one.

He darted into an abandoned industrial building, and I followed, sticking close to his side. Loud barking met my ears, the police dogs clearly on our tail. I huffed exasperatedly, leaping up onto a crate and watching as Derek spun around, eyes glowing a brilliant blue and canines exposed, snarling at them wildly. They scampered back to where they'd come from, whimpering with their tails between their legs.

"Cute trick," I stated dryly, stepping off the crate, dropping towards the ground. "Come on," I urged, motioning for him to follow me around the corner of a large machine. I froze halfway, Derek bumping into my back. "Someone's watching us," I hissed, eyes scanning the shadows. There was a flash of migraine-inducing light in front of us, and we both recoiled, all but jumping back. My vision adjusted quickly, but Derek continued to stumble. I turned the full power of my glower to the source of the weapon, glaring at Argent from under the cover of my hood.

He broke eye contact, hurrying to reload his crossbow. I didn't stick around to see what he'd pull out next, I all but shoved Derek back behind the machine, diving back beside him, my back pressed up against his side as I waited, ignoring the way he flinched away from the contact. We didn't end up having to come up with a brilliant escape plan, Derek's car, driven by the other two teenage members of our little rebellion gang, came sliding into the room, coming to a stop only feet away from us.

"Get in!" Stiles yelled, cracking open the door before leaping over the backseat to give us room.

I didn't waste time knowing Derek could look after himself, I darted to the car just as Argent pulled out a gun, beginning to fire at us. I felt a thump and an irritation in my bicep as I dove over the seat, slipping in beside Stiles just before Derek jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind him.

"What part of laying low don't you understand?!" Scott asked furiously, speeding out of the warehouse and onto a backroad.

"Dammit, I had him!" Derek responded, ignoring the teen wolf.

"Who, the alpha?" Stiles asked, leaning over the seat, unintentionally forcing me to lean back to avoid being pressed against him.

"Yes! He was right in front of us and the fucking police show up!"

"Hey, they're just doing their jobs."

Derek's head snapped around, a furious glare forming on his features, making the younger boy's heart stutter with fear. I rolled my eyes, reaching forwards and pressing a hand to his chest, shoving him back to sit properly in the seat.

"Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the _entire state_," Derek continued unhappily, glowering at Scott who was torn between him and focusing on the road.

"Can we seriously get past that?" the boy asked desperately, easing his foot off the gas as we sped around a corner. "I made a dumbass mistake, I get it."

The older beta opened his mouth to snap back, but I leaned forwards, putting an end to the squabble. "Okay, so we all agree everyone's to blame but me," I chirped, aiming for playful but coming across as more of a bitch. Stiles was the only one who seemed to see it for what it was: a distraction. He sniggered from beside me while Scott and Derek rolled their eyes in annoyance.

"How did you guys find him?" the Sheriff's son spoke up, leaning over the seat again, forcing us closer together. When Derek didn't respond I opened my mouth to tell them, but Derek cut me off with a sharp look. It was my turn to roll my eyes, deciding keeping the peace was the most important thing and keeping quiet.

"Can you just try to trust us for at least half a second?" Scott asked tiredly.

"Yeah, _both_ of us." Derek turned around, the full force of his glare focused on an uncomfortable Stiles. "Or just him," he corrected, heart once again jumping in fear, "I'll be back here." I pursed my lips at the beta, reaching up to lightly pat Stiles on the back, an action that made his heart stutter again. I immediately lifted my hand, frowning. Of course it would scare him, I was a vampire for fuck's sake, and my skin was the temperature of a corpse.

"Look, the last time I talked to my sister she was close to figuring something out," Derek explained, and I listened carefully. He hadn't gone through this information with me, and I was annoyed I hadn't been told immediately. All he'd said was that he had a lead on where the alpha might be, and I'd been stupid enough not to ask questions. I wouldn't be making that mistake again. "She found two things. The first was a guy named Harris."

Stiles all but leapt into the gap between their heads again, staring at Derek. "Our chemistry teacher?" he asked incredulously, though I couldn't see the expression on his face from the way he was angled. My lip curled at the mention of the horrid man I was forced to interact with on a daily basis, but I saved my scathing comments for a time when he would actually be around to hear them.

"Why him?" Scott asked from the driver's seat.

"I don't know yet," he responded evenly.

"What's the second?"

He dug in his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper with something drawn on it in pencil. "Some kind of symbol," he told him, and by extension, us. Scott glanced away from the road to get a look at the picture, and he jerked back in surprise once he saw it, taking the car with him a few inches to the left. Stiles' hand shot out and grasped my upper leg through my leather pants, and I looked from it to his face, which was slowly becoming a deep crimson. He awkwardly peeled his hand from the position, clearing his throat and making a show of putting his attention on the conversation at hand.

"What?" Derek asked Scott sharply. "Do you know what this is?"

"I've seen it on a necklace," he admitted reluctantly as I leaned forwards, ignoring the way I could still feel the heat of Stiles' hand, and got a look at the picture. I'd seen it before too, and it wasn't too surprising where. Of course the Argents had something to do with this whole mess. "Allison's necklace."

"Well you have to get it from her," he replied, folding the paper halfheartedly before shoving it back into his pocket.

"Easier said than done," Scott mumbled.

"Pull over."

"What?" he asked in surprise, blinking across the cab at the man.

"Pull over," he repeated. Scott did as asked, pulling off to the side of the road just on the edge of suburbia, I could see the lights from the first houses just beyond the trees. Derek shoved open the door and climbed out, stalking around to the drivers side where Scott sat, dumbfounded. "Out," he said, ripping open the door and gesturing for the boy to get out of the car.

"How are we supposed to get home?"

"Not my problem," Derek said heartlessly, and with a sigh Scott climbed from the car. I followed, then Stiles after me. "I'll call you when I know the next step," he murmured into my ear as he moved to slide into his car. With an unnecessary rev of the engine, he disappeared in a cloud of dust from the road.

"Prick," I muttered, kicking a pebble on the ground, watching uninterestedly as it flew across the road, crashing into the tree with a loud crack that made Stiles jump violently. I spun around, shoving my hands into the pockets of the hoodie I was wearing and stepping into the shadows.

"Where're you going?" Stiles asked loudly, and I paused before I hit the tree line.

"Home," I said slowly, like he was stupid.

"You-you're just going to leave us out here?" he asked, gesturing to the empty road and looming canopy, rays of moonlight just barely shining through, illuminating our faces. "You're going alone?"

I pursed my lips, my brow furrowing. "I figured you're big boys," I told him, allowing my lips to quirk up in a small smirk. "Besides, Scott can watch your back."

"I'm more worried about _your_ back," he said, and immediately my hand drifted to my back pocket. I tugged a loose cigarette free, slipping it between my lips and bringing my lighter up to light it. I took a drag, listening to the steady pump of his heart.

"Would it make you feel better if I walked with you?" I asked meaning to sound condescending, but ending up sounding like I actually cared.

"It would actually," he said, calling my bluff.

I rolled my eyes, flicking the ash of the end of my stick and walking back towards them. I passed them and made it several paces down the road before I stopped and looked back, observing he and Scott, who had remained oddly silent thus far. "Well?" I asked impatiently.

They looked at each other, having one of their silent communications before they both turned and walked towards me. I didn't wait to them to catch up, turning back around and heading down the road. A moment later we were in suburbia, under the harsh fluorescents of the street lights. I didn't like them, they made me look even paler than I already was, but I put up with it for the boys.

"So are there any other vampires in Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked conversationally, speaking so loudly that a man walking his dog on the opposite side of the road turned to look at us through narrowed eyes.

I let my eyes slip closed for a moment, praying for patience from Zeus or Ra or whoever the fuck was listening, before I opened them again, taking in another lungful of chemicals. "No," I answered, glancing up at the heavens, only just able to make out the Little Dipper with the lights from the area. "At least, not that I know of," I blew out the smoke in a perfect ring, ducking under it and continuing forwards. "It's just me."

I'd sounded more sad than I'd meant to, but I didn't add anything further. "You must miss your own kind, huh?" Scott spoke up for the first time from where he walked closest to the road.

I decided there wasn't any harm in replying honestly, so I nodded. "Yeah, sometimes."

"So, how do you become a vampire?" he asked, and it occurred to me that I hadn't really told either he or Stiles much about the process. The other boy listened on, appearing outwardly nonchalant, though I could tell how eager he was for answers.

"You don't want to know," I said simply, grimacing at the thought. I didn't want them to hate me any more than they probably already did.

"We really do," Stiles replied, jumping forwards a few steps so we were walking beside each other. "So come on, what is it? A bite, like werewolves?"

I snorted amusedly, rolling my eyes at him, though not maliciously, "Nothing that tacky." I wasn't sure what Scott's response to that would be, but he still surprised me when he chuckled lightly. I decided it wouldn't hurt to tell them the truth. It wasn't like either of them were secretly wishing to be vampires, not that Scott could anyway. "Basically you have to feed on a vampire's blood, then die with it in your system. Once you wake up, you need to feed on human blood to complete the transformation," I told them gravely. "It's a complicated process."

They were both quiet, taking in what I'd said. "This is my stop," Scott spoke up, pausing in front of a familiar two storey house. "I guess I'll see you guys at school tomorrow," he said, smiling slightly, thoughts clearly elsewhere. Before he turned to walk up his drive, he turned to me, face serious. "If anything happens before you guys are home, if the alpha..." he trailed off, glancing at his best friend who was scowling.

"Yeah," I nodded, not in the mood to hear him plead. I got the idea. Protect Stiles. "You got it."

He smiled again, reaching out to pat me one the shoulder friendlily. I forced myself not to flinch away, pushing my lips up into a small smile in return. He turned to Stiles, did some weird handshake thing that I didn't understand before clapping him on the shoulder too and wandering up to his front door. I waited until he was inside before turning and continuing down the road to Stiles' house. It meant I was walking in the opposite direction to my house, but Stiles didn't mention it, and I was happy to keep silent.

"Have you ever done it?" Stiles asked softly after a lengthy pause, glancing over at me, probably only just able to make me out as we moved out of the streetlights. "Turned someone?"

I didn't meet his gaze, staring forwards as I took a drag from my cigarette to put off answering for as long as I could. "Yes," I finally said, my expression stony.

"Why?"

It was an innocent enough question, though it didn't have an innocent answer. Sure, he wasn't repulsed by me yet, but there were certain things I could tell him, things that could make his skin crawl, make him look at me with fear and loathing.

"Hey."

I realised he'd stopped and I turned around to face him, watching as he swatted away the bugs flying around his head.

"Nothing you tell me is going to send me running," he said seriously as I finished off my smoke, dropping it to the ground and crushing it under the low heel of my sensible boot. I avoided his eyes, my gaze going to my lapis lazuli daylight ring, fiddling with it idly. "Jules..."

I looked up, taken by surprise at the nickname.

He smiled, but it was careful, controlled in a way I didn't know he was capable of. "You did some fucked up things in your past, I get it," he said understandingly, and I was momentarily taken aback by his colourful language, but it quickly gave way to an amused smirk. "I'm not going to judge you for it."

I licked my lips, taking my time. "Some decades were more boring than others," I said quietly, turning around and beginning to walk down the street, his footsteps hurriedly picked up behind me as he worked to keep pace. "Sometimes I was lonely and so I did what most vampires do when they get lonely and I...made myself some friends," I told him, my hands twisting in front of me. "Literally."

He was quiet again, processing what I'd said. In a way it was amusing; it took a lot to take words away from Stiles Stilinski. "Where are they now?" he asked after a while, handing finding their way into his pockets.

"Some met people they liked more than me," I shrugged like it didn't still hurt. "Some went off alone, preferring to live as nomads." I paused, swallowing thickly, "Most are dead." I stared into the distance, trying to force myself not to remember Hilary with her flaming red hair, or Bess with the bluest eyes to ever blue, Slater with the thirst for knowledge, or Nathan and Lynda who were the cutest couple I knew, or Marty and Josephine, may they rest in peace. "I'm still in contact with a few of them," I said offhandedly. "If you ever wanna see a vampire party in action I have this great friend over in Virginia who I think you'd love. I actually didn't turn him, I just met he and his brother a while back, you're both as sarcastic as each other," I paused to smirk at him.

"Juliet Cooper: vampire pimp," he joked, framing his hands across the sky like it was written on a billboard. I forced myself not to wince at the fake name, keeping the smirk pasted across my red lips.

"That's me," I said with a light laugh, nudging him softly with my elbow. He chuckled, shaking his head and smiling at the ground. "Sleep well, Stiles," I said, coming to a stop outside his house.

"What?" he asked in confusion, spinning around and catching sight of his home, shoulders slumping, "Oh." I turned around, heading back the way we'd come. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked loudly, and I paused under the light of a street lamp, glancing back at him over the shoulder.

"Of course," I responded, shrugging simply.

A wicked smirk crossed his face as he crossed his arms. "You're not afraid of the big bad wolf?" he asked, and I was thrown back to several weeks ago, when I'd first met he and Scott in the woods, and I'd said nearly the exact same thing to them.

Clearly he remembered it just as well as I did, and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my lips. "Never," I replied, winking teasingly before spinning back around, wandering off into the night, trying not to think about how I could feel his eyes on me until I turned the corner.

* * *

"We have a problem," Scott said the next day, grabbing my arm and tugging me from my locker, barely giving me time to hit it shut before we were halfway down the hall, Stiles in tow.

"Okay?" I said in confusion, ripping my arm from his grasp, readjusting the old army jacket I'd picked up when I was actually _in_ the army, pushing the sleeves back up passed my elbows. I held my books to my chest and nodded for him to lead the way.

"Jackson knows," he said gravely, glancing at every corner like the guy would be standing there watching him.

"Knows what?" I asked with a frown, glancing back at Stiles. He looked just as stressed as his werewolf best friend, so I assumed this was as serious as they were saying it was.

"That I'm a...you know?"

I shot him a deadpan expression, unamused by his words. "It's not a dirty word Scott," I grumbled with an eye roll. "This is who you are now, might as well come to terms with the word _werewolf._" Stiles nodded enthusiastically, apparently wholeheartedly agreeing with my point.

"Aren't you the least bit concerned?" Scott asked, brow furrowing.

"No," I said with a shrug.

They looked at each other for a moment before looking back at me. "Why not?" Stiles asked carefully.

"Hello?" I said sarcastically, pointing to myself. "Vampire?" That didn't seem to clear things up for them. "I happen to possess the gift of compulsion."

"You can make him forget he knows anything?" Scott asked hopefully, stepping closer so we wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah," I nodded. "And implant false memories, and make him to leave town, or even him kill himself if I so desire."

Scott looked disturbed by what I said, but Stiles seemed to take it in his stride. "We'll keep that last one as plan C," he said, lips twitching. "For now if you could just make him forget, that'd be great."

He shot me a double thumbs-up which I hurried to copy with enthusiasm, a sarcastic grin on my lips. He scrunched his nose at me unhappily, but I paid him no mind. "I'll go get shit done," I said. "I'll come find you when it's done."

I didn't wait for a reply, merely blending into the crowd, on a hunt for Jackson. I only had to ask two people if they'd seen him before I found him entering the boy's toilet on the second floor. I tilted my head as I paused outside, carefully listening for anyone else in there with him. Once I'd determined that he was alone, I shoved my way into the room, locking the door behind me, making him look up in surprise at the sound.

I set my books down on the counter, stalking towards him. A cocky smirk appeared on his lips as he held up his hands. "Listen, Juliet right?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Look, I'm flattered, really, I am, but the men's room? That's so freshman. Why don't we-"

"Shut up," I snapped as I approached him, slamming my forearm against his chest, forcing him into the wall beside the sink. His eyes widened in alarm and he struggled to push back, sucking in a sharp breath as he realised I was stronger than him. "You're going to forget everything-"

"What are you talking about?!" he exclaimed, trying to slip out from my hold.

I frowned when it didn't immediately work, grabbing his chin with my free hand and forcing him to look deep into my eyes as my pupils expanded. "You're going to forget everything you know about Scott McCall-"

"Get off of me!" he yelled, and I clamped a hand over his mouth. It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working?

I shoved him back again, one hand over his mouth, the other running down his arms and chest, looking for something, but hoping I was wrong. I hissed in pain when my hand met a small disk of metal, the coating on it acid to my skin. "Where did you get this broach?" I asked roughly, letting go of my hold on his mouth to grasp both sides of his collar, pulling him forwards and slamming him back into the wall.

"I don't know-"

"Where did you get it?" I repeated, glaring at him, trying not to breathe through my nose so I couldn't smell the blood pumping so very fast through his veins, just beneath the skin.

"Allison gave it to me," he answered angrily, once again struggling against my hold.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" he asked in confusion.

"I _mean_ why did she _give_ it to you?"

"She said her aunt gave them to her to give to her friends, something about being a symbol of protection. I _don't_ _know_!" he said wincing as my grip tightened. I glowered at him for a long moment, weighing my options before letting him go. He panted against the bathroom wall, pressing a hand to his chest where I'd held him, no doubt a bruise would form in the next day or so, but that was the least of my worries.

"Tell anyone about this and I'll cut off your dick and lodge it in your oesophagus," I warned him. He didn't reply, merely staring up at me with wide eyes. With a final glare I picked up my books, nonchalantly fixed my hair in the mirror then unlocked the door, sauntering out like I hadn't just threatened his life.

* * *

It took until lunch to meet up with the boys again, I found them at their usual table, whispering over their food.

"Did you find anything else out?" Stiles asked as I approached.

"Just that I know nothing about girls and that they're totally psychotic," Scott replied, staring at his food while I silently slipping into the chair opposite them both.

"Ouch," I said loudly with a smirk on my lips, making them both jump in their chairs, heads snapping around to stare at me. "You know Scott, I resent that."

"I-I didn't mean _you_," he stumbled over his words, trying to dig himself out of the hole he was in. I raised a single eyebrow, and he looked away awkwardly.

"Look, I came up with a plan B just incase anything like this happened," Stiles said, breaking the tension.

"What's plan B?" Scott asked, happy for the change of topic.

"Just steal the stupid thing."

"Can't we try at least getting to Harris?"

"My dad put him on a twenty-four hour protective detail. The necklace is all we've got," Stiles sighed, dropping his chips onto his plate in defeat.

"While we're sharing news," I said, reaching over to pick up one of his discarded chips, frowning at it before deciding it wouldn't kill me and popping it into my mouth. It was salty but not altogether unpleasant. "Jackson can't be compelled."

There was a beat of silence before Stiles snapped back into action. "He _what_?" he asked furiously, sitting up straighter to peer at the boy at the other end of the room. "Why the hell not?"

"Your little girlfriend gave him vervain," I muttered with a nod at Scott, lip curling in anger as I absentmindedly picked up another chip, just for something to do.

"What's vervain?"

"Vampire's wolfsbane," I said nonchalantly. "Poison to us, also prevents the affects to compulsion."

"How is that possible?" Scott whisper yelled, looking around in alarm. "She doesn't know anything. Does she?"

"I don't think so," I shrugged, crossing one leg over the other and picking up Stiles' drink, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip before I'd even realised I'd moved. I frowned down at the bottle before capping it and sliding it back over to the boy, who just took it with a nod. "I managed to get Jackson to tell me that it was her aunt's idea, something about being a symbol of protection and handing them out to her friends." I huffed, a strand of hair flying away from my face before floating back down to rest on my cheek. "Whatever, either way I can't touch it to get it off, it burns me every time I try, so one of you will somehow have to rip it off his shirt for me. It's a little broach in the shape of a tree-"

"Guys, he's watching us."

I frowned at the uncharacteristically rude interruption, but when I followed his line of sight over my shoulder, I saw that he was indeed right. The little dick potato was watching us with a creepily intense look on his face, jaw clenched tight, clicking every few moments.

"Act normal," he muttered, ducking his head, shoulders stiffening as he struggled to look anywhere but at the other boy. I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair, throwing one arm over the back and kicking my feet up on the empty chair beside me.

"Scott."

Both of us tensed, but I immediately relaxed my shoulders. "Don't react," I whispered to Scott warningly, staring at a spot on the ceiling like it was the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Can you hear me? You can, can't you? You and your little friend."

Stiles frowned in confusion at the stonily looks on our faces. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, taking care to keep his eyes on his friend.

"Jackson's talking to us, he knows we can hear him," Scott told him under his breath. "Look at me," he instructed when the boy looked away. "Just talk to me; act normal."

"Are you trying to pretend not to hear me?"

"Say something," he hissed again when Stiles remained silent.

Stiles gestured wildly, at a loss, "I can't think of anything, my mind is completely blank."

"_Your _mind's blank? You can't think of something to say?"

"Not under this kind of pressure." He huffed, taking a chance and glancing where the boy was sitting. "FYI he's not even sitting with them anymore." I looked up, brow furrowing as I took in the empty chair.

"Where the fuck...?" I trailed off, eyes narrowing as I searched the room.

"Looking for me? I'm right here." I rolled my eyes, returning my gaze to the ceiling and tapping out a beat on the table with my nails. What a twat. "So what else can you two do? Can you see better? Are you stronger? More powerful? Now, I knew there was no way McCall suddenly got that good at lacrosse. Which means you're actually a cheater. Aren't you? Can you even play lacrosse?"

"Yes," Scott muttered angrily.

"Don't rise to the bait, Scott," I said softly, my fingers never pausing their tapping.

"I bet my new co-captain is gonna score a bunch of shots tonight, aren't you? And while you're pretending you're not a lying cheat, I'm going to ruin your life if you don't give me what I want. And you know what I'm going to start with? Her. I'm going to destroy any chance you have left with her. And when I'm done with that I'm gonna get her all alone then I'm gonna get me hand all over that tight little body."

"Scott, come on, you can't let him do this, you can't let him have this kind of power over you," Stiles said, there for his friend even though he wasn't sure what the bastard was saying. Scott's hand clenched around the water bottle he was holding.

"I'm gonna do everything you never got the chance to do. Scott, she's going to beg for more. I'll bet she likes to get loud. Maybe she's even a screamer. How're you gonna feel Scott, when she's screaming my name?"

I didn't appreciate his blatant disrespect for Allison, who was such a sweet and kind soul. I reached forwards and picked up Stiles' apple, spinning around and launching it at Jackson's head. He grunted as it collided with his skull at the same time as Scott snapped his tray in half, making every head in the cafeteria turn to stare. I met their gazes with a cool stare of my own, and slowly they all turned away, made uncomfortable by the coldness in my eyes.

"Did you just throw my apple at Jackson's head?" Stiles asked after a moment, looking from the empty spot where his apple had been to where Jackson stood in the corner, glaring darkly, a red mark forming above his eyebrow.

I watched him as his jaw clicked a final time and he turned around, stalking from the room. The corner of my lips curved up into a light smirk. "Yes," I responded cooly, my finger resuming their dance on the table.

"Cool."

I glanced at him, taking in his impressed smile and forcing down the warm glow it gave me in my gut.

"Listen," he continued after a moment. "I have an idea about what we need to do next to find the alpha."

I waited for him to continue, but he simply stared, apparently awaiting a reply. "And?" I prompted impatiently.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the bell rang, echoing through the room, bouncing off the linoleum floor. "Meet me at my Jeep after school, you can come to mine and help. I'll explain on the way."

I figured arguing would get me nowhere, so I shrugged. It wasn't like I had anything better to do with my time.

He waited until we were halfway to his house, windows rolled down and some tacky pop song playing from the radio, to explain his plan to me.

"So basically we're somehow tracing who the original sender of the text was?" I asked for confirmation, my brain having some difficultly wrapping around the complicated techno-babble.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a left down a side street.

It was silent for a while, both of us enjoying the fresh air and quiet rumble of the engine before I decided to speak up. "Are you excited for the game tonight?" I asked him curiously, finding that I wasn't just going through the motions; I was actually interested in the answer to my question. I'd found that happening a lot over the recent weeks, wanting to know more about Stiles than I'd ever really wanted to know about anyone. I told myself it was because there was something different about him, something special.

"Yeah," he nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his lips.

"First line," I said needlessly, watching from the corner of my eye as his grin brightened.

"Yeah," he repeated giddily. "I still can't believe it."

"You're going to be great," I said somewhat stiltedly, hoping I came across as encouraging or supportive instead of awkward.

He glanced over at me, "You think?"

"I know," I replied confidently as we pulled into his driveway. I cracked open my door, dropping to the ground and letting it swing shut behind me. I noticed his dad's cruiser parked to the right, meaning the man was home. Stiles led the way up the drive, stepping through the door and gesturing for me to follow him. We didn't immediately run into his dad, I could hear his heartbeat coming from the lounge room, Stiles just moved up the stairs to his room, trusting me to follow him.

Before I stepped through the door I caught a whiff of a familiar scent, and as I entered the room I turned to look at Derek with a raised eyebrow. Stiles slid through the doorway obliviously, not sparing either of us a glance and moving straight to his desk chair to boot up his computer. I stepped back until the back of my knees touched the bed and sat down on it, keeping my eyes on the beta werewolf in front of me.

"Hey Stiles!" the Sheriff yelled from the top of the stairs.

"Yo D-Derek?!" he spun around, gaping at the raven haired wolf standing in his bedroom. His eyes snapped to mine, looking for answers. I shrugged and with a wince he leapt from the chair, moving to the doorway and poking his head through so that his dad wouldn't get a look at Derek.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed under my breath, so quietly only Derek's enhanced hearing could pick it up.

"None of your business," he whispered back.

I rolled my eyes. "Mature," I grumbled, half listening to the conversation on the other side of the door.

"Did I hear someone else come in with you?" John asked suspiciously, and I slid to my feet, flashing my teeth at Derek before pasting a small smile on my face and appearing in the gap in the doorway.

"Afternoon Sheriff," I greeted him politely, leaning against the wood.

"Juliet," he replied kindly. "What're you doing here?"

"History project," Stiles interjected, apparently worrying I wouldn't be able to lie. "She's my partner. Not my _partner_, I mean my partner in history. The class."

We both shot him confused looks, not quite sure what he was on about.

"She's a huge history buff, so she's helping me study," he continued awkwardly. I nodded along, continuing the lie.

"Okay, well, I was just telling Stiles that I have to head out," he began, looking between us with cautious eyes. "Can I trust you two home alone?"

"Of course, Sir," I said, pasting on my most charming smile. He watched us for several more long seconds before nodding and turning around, shooting us one one final weird look over his shoulder as he made his way down the stairs. I slipped back into the room, crossing my arms and waiting for Stiles to follow.

The moment he was inside Derek grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him none-too-gently up against the back of his closed door. The boy jumped, glancing over at me with wide eyes, heart pounding in his chest. "If you say one word..." Derek threatened.

"Like what? _Hey dad, Derek Hale's in my room, bring your gun_?" he replied sarcastically, making Derek scowl. "Yeah, that's right. If I'm harbouring your fugitive ass, it's my house; my rules, buddy."

I refused to be impressed by the guts he displayed, but couldn't help the amused smirk that found its way onto my face. Derek was silent for a beat, before nodding reluctantly. He let go of the boy, stepping back and straightening his askew clothes. Stiles huffed a laugh, copying the action.

He moved to step around him, and Derek flinched forwards, making Stiles gasp and stumble back. "Oh my _God_," he grunted, hand held to his racing heart. I chuckled, moving back and standing beside the bed, considering for a moment before shrugging and letting myself fall back down onto the covers. I noticed for the first time how comfortable Stiles' bed was, way better than my old thing.

"Scott didn't get the necklace?" Derek asked, arms crossed, staring stonily at Stiles.

"No, he's still working on it. But there's something else we can try. The night we were trapped at the school, Scott sent a text to Allison asking her to meet him there."

"So?"

"So it wasn't Scott."

"Well can you find out who sent it?"

"No, not me, but I think I know somebody who can," Stiles said, and Derek turned around to look at me expectantly. Stiles followed his gaze before letting out a dry laugh. "Her? _Please_," he chuckled, shaking his head, ignoring my frown. "She can barely turn a phone on, let alone trace a text. Seriously, for someone so old you'd think she'd be better with technology."

"Technology has only been around for a fraction of the time I've existed," I defended myself pettily. "I've spent more years writing letters than the entire time the phone has been around."

Stiles threw a smirk at me over his shoulder, unfazed by my irritated and somewhat defensive tone.

* * *

"You want me to do what?"'

"Trace a text."

"I came here to do lab work. That's what lab partners do."

"And we will, once you trace the text."

"And what makes you think I know how?"

"I looked up your arrest report," Stiles admitted with minimal shame and my lips twitched from where I reclined on his bed, idly flipping through some old music magazine.

"I was thirteen," Danny defended himself. "They dropped the charges. No, we're doing lab work."

"Oh my-" Stiles cussed under his breath, spinning around in his chair to stare at me expectantly. "Jules, would you please?"

I glanced up from the glossy pages of the magazine, fixing my cool stare on Danny. He met my eyes and I immediately flattened my gaze in a way that should have instantly drawn him in. He merely frowned in confusion and I huffed, eyes darting to the familiar little broach pinned onto his jacket. "Cool broach, Danny," I said obviously, and Stiles groaned in defeat, realising what I was pointing out. "Allison give it to you?"

He looked down at the offending accessory. "Uh, yeah?"

"Cool," I said with a fake smile, immediately dropping it when I turned back to the magazine.

Danny looked completely confused as he sat down in the chair beside Stiles. "Who is he again?" he asked the energised boy, looking back at Derek who sat creepily in the corner.

"My cousin, Miguel."

"My boyfriend, Tanner."

There was an awkward silence after both Stiles and I had spoken at the same time. Danny's eyes narrowed suspiciously, looking between us as Derek looked up in annoyance. "Which one is it?" Danny asked, strong brow furrowed.

"He-he's my cousin _and_ Juliet's boyfriend," Stiles spoke up, a hint of desperation and something like disgust in his tone.

"But is his name Miguel or Tanner?" Danny asked, still unsure what to make of the whole thing.

"Miguel Tanner," I supplied with an easy smile, turning to look at Derek with a smirk. "Isn't that right, baby?" His glare intensified, and I got the feeling he was trying to set me on fire with his mind.

"...Is that blood on his shirt?"

"Yeah, well he gets these horrible nose bleeds," Stiles excused, and I had to admit it wasn't the worst excuse I'd ever heard. "Hey Miguel, I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts."

Derek slammed the encyclopaedia he was reading shut passive-aggressively, sliding to his feet. I watched, only half interested as the man slid his bloodstained shirt off. Instantly I sat up straighter, watching the way the muscles in his back moved under his skin as he looked for another shirt. He may have been a disgusting werewolf, and I may have been an undead vampire, but I was still a woman and he was still a man, and damn was he a fine one.

"I mean so anyway, we both know you have the skills to trace that text so..."

"Stiles," Derek spoke up quietly.

"Yes?"

"This no fit."

"Then try something else on."

He turned back to the chest of drawers, and I couldn't help myself as I rolled over onto my stomach, getting closer to the shirtless wolf and his fine abs. I smirked, kicking my feet in the air as I watched him root around for another shirt.

"He isn't a piece of meat, you know," Stiles snapped after a long moment, face twisted in disgust as he looked between Derek and I. I didn't dignify that with a response, instead continuing to watch Derek shamelessly. "Hey, that one looks pretty good, huh?" he suddenly asked enthusiastically, and I raised an eyebrow at his words, eyeing the hideous piece of fabric stretched over the man's muscles. "What do you think Danny?"

"Huh?"

"The shirt."

"It's not really his colour," Danny said awkwardly, and I instantly picked up on what Stiles was doing. Derek scowled but stripped off the ugly shirt anyway, sorting through the contents of the drawer for a more suitable one.

"You swing for a different team but you still play ball, don't you Danny-boy?"

"You're a horrible person."

"I know it keeps me awake at night," he muttered uncaringly, watching Danny with intense eyes. "Anyway, about that text..."

"_Stiles_," Derek snapped angrily from his place in the corner. "None of these _fit_."

We all looked at him, and a predatory smirk spread across my lips. "Might just be better for you to go without," I said with a deep sigh, biting my lip at him teasingly. He shot me a disgusted look, muttering something about a walking corpse under his breath.

"I'll need the ISP, the phone number and the exact time of the text," Danny spoke up, and Stiles pumped his fist in the air in celebration.

"Thank you man, seriously," he said with a shit-eating grin as he handed over the requested information.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled back, focused on the task at hand. "Are any of you going to tell me exactly why I'm doing this?"

There was a heavy silence as we all considered his query. "It's in your best interest if you don't ask questions," I finally said, deciding honesty was probably the easiest option. Plus, I knew how much Stiles despised secrets.

"But I just want to know-"

"No."

"But I-"

"Nuh-uh."

"Can't you just-"

"Nope."

Danny let out a frustrated sigh but seemed to get the message, stopping his questioning. "There, the text was sent from a computer," he finally divulged after a long few minutes of tense silence. "This one," he confirmed, pointing at the screen.

"Registered to that account name?" Derek asked incredulously, and I frowned, leaning around him to get a peek at the words displayed.

"No, no, no, no," Stiles muttered anxiously. "That can't be right."

There, in clear, red writing was one name. One none of us expected.

_Melissa McCall._

* * *

"Look, if you see my dad can you tell him I'll be there, I'll just be a little bit late, okay?"

Scott agreed and the boy hung up, sighing heavily as he pocketed his phone. "You're not gonna make it," Derek deadpanned, staring at him with a raised brow.

"I know," he groaned, rubbing his palms into his eyes.

"You didn't tell him about his mom, either."

"Not until we find out the truth."

It was a kind thing to do, I personally probably wouldn't have thought twice about telling the boy what we'd found. But Stiles was always thinking about other people and their best interests, it was just who he was.

"By the way, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

Derek grabbed the back of Stiles' head and slammed it into the steering wheel, making the boy yelp in pain, grabbing his no doubt aching head. I was surprised when I didn't find his pain immediately hilarious, instead a cold anger churning in my gut at the werewolf.

"What the hell was that?!" he shouted, wincing as he held his skull.

"You _know _what that was for."

I slid from the backseat, appearing beside Stiles' door and cracking it open, reaching in to grab the boy's hand and help him from the car.

"Don't screw up," Derek grunted, and I flipped him off just before I let the door slam shut. I let go of Stiles' hand, shoving them into the pockets of my trench coat and leading the way into the hospital.

The automatic doors slid open as I approached, and I waited just inside for Stiles to catch up. He was still rubbing his sore head, an agitated frown on his face. I turned around as he stepped over the threshold, pausing when I didn't instantly see the room flooded with nurses and patients. "Something's wrong," I said quietly, not wanting to break the eery silence that covered the ward like a blanket. I stepped closer to Stiles, nodding for him to follow me. "Stay close to me. Don't wander off."

"You got it," he replied just as softly, frowning worriedly at the empty front desk.

We did a loop of the floor, not a single person in sight. "Call Derek," I said as we made out way back through the long term care unit. He didn't question me, fishing out his phone and dialling the beta wolf waiting in the Jeep.

"We can't find her," he said the moment Derek answered.

"_What?_"

"I said we can't find her."

"_Look, ask for Jennifer. She's been looking after my uncle_."

"Yeah, well he's not here either," Stiles said as he stepped into the room, checking it out as I continued to stare out into the empty all, my skin prickling warningly.

"_What?"_

"He's not here, he's gone."

"_Guys, get out of there_ right now," Derek yelled through the line. "_It's him, he's the alpha. Get out_!"

I felt eyes on the back of my head and whipped around so fast it would have given a human whiplash. A man was standing at the corner, an ugly smirk twisted across his burned face. I snapped a hand out, grasping Stiles' arm and yanking him from the room, forcing him behind me, angling my body so he was mostly blocked from sight.

"You must be Stiles," the man said quietly, intelligent eyes focused on what he could see of the boy from behind me. "Which would make you Juliet, correct?"

"Stiles," I said carefully, never taking my eyes off the alpha for a second as I reached back, pushing my hand against the kid's chest. "_Run._"

He'd barely turned around before another voice spoke up. "What are you doing here?" a woman asked in a creepily calm tone. "Visiting hours are over."

The man stepped forwards, a predatory smirk on his unattractive face. "You-? And him-" Stiles stuttered, heart racing in his chest. "You're the one who-and he's the...oh my God, I'm gonna die..."

"Stiles, it's going to be okay," I said, refusing to let surprise flash on my face when his hand found mine, holding onto it like a lifeline. I heard footsteps running towards us from a hall over and knew instinctively that it was Derek. A beta and a vampire against an alpha. We would have the advantage. My priority though was to get Stiles to safety.

Derek burst into the room, ramming his elbow into the nurse's face, sending her crashing to the floor.

"That's not nice," the man's uncle crooned. "She's my nurse."

"She's the psychotic bitch helping you kill people." He glared even more intently at his relative, barely looking away to say to Stiles, "get out of the way."

"Oh man," he moaned in despair, dropping to the floor and sliding out of the way. It wasn't until he got too far that I realised he'd yet to let go of my hand. He tugged me after him desperately, but I wrenched my hand from his grip, stepping once again so I was in front of him, ready to protect him at any cost.

"You think I killed Laura on purpose?" the alpha began, striding forwards, stepping around me like I wasn't even there, focused on his nephew. "My own family?"

Derek's eyes glowed a brilliant blue as he snarled at him, leaping forward to attack. "Stiles, desk, now," I hissed, reaching down to grab his arms, staring at him straight on, conveying how deadly serious I was.

"Not without you," he said with wide eyes, and I didn't have it in me to find it cute. Instead I growled and shoved him towards the safety of the desks, watching him slide across the floor. He was too far away to stop me as I moved forwards, landing a punch to the alpha's gut. He grunted softly but otherwise didn't react. I'd forgotten how tough it was fighting an alpha when they had so much strength on me. He turned around, snapping out his wrist and slapping me across the face. The blow split my lip and I felt blood trickle down my chin as I slumped against the wall. I growled, wishing I'd fed at all recently, I was nowhere near at my strongest.

"My mind," he began, grabbing Derek by the throat and dragging him down the hall as I recovered from the hit. "My personality, were literally burned out of me. I was being driven by pure instinct."

"You want forgiveness?" Derek asked once he'd let him go, leaping to his feet and slamming his fist into his cheek. I stood up straight, flashing to their side and slamming my own fist into his spine.

He barely flinched, turning around and landing another blow to my jaw. I took it like a champ, barely hissing as I recovered, kicking out my leg to land a kick to his side, but he grabbed my knee, using my own momentum to slam my into the ground. I heard something snap, as well as a cracking noise as my skull hit the hard floor.

My vision blurred and suddenly it sounded like I was hearing everything from under water. It continued for a moment, and I realised something myst have happened to my spine, because I couldn't feel anything below my chest. Funnily enough my last thought before blacking out wasn't that I hoped the alpha wouldn't finish me off while I was unconscious, but that more than anything I hoped Stiles would be okay, that he would survive this. Because if anybody deserved to, it was him.

When I came to the first thing I felt was someone squeezing my hand. I looked around wildly but the only thing I saw was black, that's when I realised my eyes were still shut. It took quite a bit of effort, but eventually I got my eyelids to cooperate and I blinked them open, staring at the harsh fluorescent light directly above me.

"Juliet?" Stiles' familiar voice asked in my ear, and I looked to the side to see him kneeling over my head, worry and fear splashed across his face. "Juliet!"

"Stiles?" I croaked, wincing as I tried to sit up. He helped me up immediately, slipping an arm around my shoulders, taking most of me weight for me.

"Holy crap, Jules!" he gasped, squeezing me tightly, heart thumping wildly against his chest. "I thought you were dead." I refrained from commenting that technically I _was_ dead, and instead awkwardly slid to my feet. "You didn't have a heartbeat and you weren't breathing and I thought..."

I raised a hand to my aching neck, rolling it and frowning as I felt the last of the healing process work it's magic. "Feed," I grunted, grimacing as I realised I sounded like a fucking caveman. "I need to feed."

"Yeah," he said, not seeming fazed in the slightest by my words. "Where do they keep the A Positive around here?" he tried to joke, though the sound fell flat, his heart still racing, making him slightly short of breath.

"I smell some," I said quietly, turning around and walking down the hall. "This way."

He followed me, hovering close to my back like he was sure I was going to collapse or something. I shoved open the doors to a treatment room, spotting a bag of blood hanging from the drip pole. I stumbled forwards, all but tearing it from the metal stand. I bit into it, spitting out the mouthful of plastic to the ground. "Jules," Stiles muttered from a few feet away. "Your eyes."

Immediately I spun around so my back was facing him, hiding my true form as I emptied the contents of the bag into my mouth. I bit back a blissful moan at the taste, sucking until every last drop was gone. Once I was content, I dropped the bag to the floor, running a hand over my lips to collect any spilt drops and waiting for my fangs to retreat before turning around to look at Stiles meekly.

I felt ashamed in a way, that he'd seen me like that. It was borderline embarrassing. I brushed my hair back from my face, eyes on a scuff mark on the floor, unable to meet his gaze. "Derek left with Peter," he said after a long minute, hands shoved into his pockets.

Immediately I got over whatever the fuck was wrong with me, gaze snapping up to meet his. "He _what_?"

If there was one thing this town was teaching me, it was to never trust a werewolf. Especially a Hale.


	12. Hate To See Your Heart Break

_For all the air that's in your lungs_

_For all the joy that is to come_

_For all the things that you're alive to feel_

_Just let the pain remind you hearts can heal_

Hate To See Your Heart Break – Paramore

* * *

"Why can't we just let them kill him again?" I asked from the backseat, feet kicked up as I watched the old buildings from the industrial district fly passed, Stiles pushing the speed limit in his haste to get to Jackson.

"Because we're the _good guys_," Stiles said slowly like he was speaking to a child. I bit back a remark about how I was over ten times his age, something about the sudden realisation not sitting well in my gut.

"Jackson needs taking care of and the Argents need to believe they caught the other beta," I told them cheerily. "Two birds, one stone," I grinned at Stiles in the mirror. "It's win-win."

He looked like he was seriously considering it for a moment, a small smirk on his face, and a pleasure filled me as for a brief moment I pictured him as an immortal. I could see it so clearly in my mind's eye. He was easy-going, fun-loving and had a brilliantly sour attitude towards life, the kind a vampire needed to get through this world. The awesome thrill the image gave me faded when I realised he'd lose all the things I found best about him; his clumsiness, his humanity, his _heartbeat._

"Show time," the boy occupying my thoughts chimed, turning up the music playing from the Jeep and hitting the gas before coming to an abrupt, jerky stop beside Jackson and Argent. "Yo!" he greeted the boy like they were old friends. I wanted no part in it all, sulking in the backseat, silently glowering at the pair.

"Everything okay?" Scott asked him friendlily.

"Hey Scott. Your friend here was having car trouble. We're just taking a look," Argent said with a small smile, like he wasn't planning Jackson's death.

"There's a shop right down the street, I'm sure they have a tow truck."

"Yeah, you want a ride?" Stiles asked with a smile that I could tell was forced. "Hey, come on Jackson," he continued when the boy hesitated. "You're way too pretty to be out here all by yourself."

Jackson nodded reluctantly, heading towards the Jeep. "Hey boys!" Argent called, and I rolled my eyes at his blatant show of ignoring me. He leaned down and turned the ignition, the car letting out a healthy rumble as it started without a problem. "I told you I knew a few things about cars," he said with a sly smirk.

He swaggered back to his vehicle, sliding into the driver's seat and pulling away without a backwards glance.

"What, are you following _me_ now?" Jackson hissed the second he was gone, glaring at Scott with as much fury as he could, which honestly wasn't very intimidating.

"Yes, you stupid, _freaking_ idiot. You almost gave away everything right there!" It was interesting to see Scott blow up, he was usually so introverted. I unrolled the window face them, curling my legs under me on the seat of the Jeep and resting my arms on the windowsill, watching as Stiles joined the group, just as angry looking as his best friend.

"What are you talking about?"

"He thinks _you're_ the second beta!"

There was a pause. "What?"

"He thinks you're _me_!" Scott lashed out, slamming his hand against the door of the Jeep.

I sniggered at the display of rage, and Stiles shot me a none-too-happy expression. "Dude, my Jeep," he whined, wincing at the minimal damage.

"I can hear your heart beating from a mile away, literally," Scott growled, and I rolled my eyes at the dramatics. "Now he thinks that there's something wrong and now I have to keep an eye on you so he doesn't _kill you too_!"

He roared loudly, swinging around to land another hit on the Jeep. "Okay, okay, how about we just step away from Stiles' Jeep," the kid muttered, grabbing his friend's arms and pulling him away from his beloved car.

"This is _your_ problem, not mine," Jackson retorted furiously. "Okay, I didn't say anything which means _you're_ the one that's going to get _me _killed. This is _your_ fault." He took a step forwards, shoving Scott into the Jeep. I dodged back as he slammed into the window I was leaning out of, making sure he didn't break a finger or something.

"Stop hitting my Jeep!" Stiles exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his arms in the arm. I suppressed another snigger, schooling my features when he glanced my way. Jackson and Scott dove at each other. "Jules!" Stiles yelped, jumping back to avoid being in the middle of their squabble.

I was out of the car before he could blink, standing between the two boys, a hand on each chest, forcing them apart. "Settle down boys," I scolded them lightly, shoving them back another inch when they crept forwards. "Can you play nice or do I need to keep chaperoning?"

"When they come after you I won't be able to protect you!" Scott yelled at Jackson, ignoring me altogether but still keeping his distance. I dropped my hands and slid back, moving so I stood beside Stiles, watching the exchange wearily. "I can't protect anyone."

His gaze slid to Stiles, who blinked in surprise. "Why are you looking at me?" he asked confusedly. He glanced to me, looking for answers. I shook my head, telling him this wasn't the time.

"You know what? Now you _have_ to do it. Get me what I want and I will be fine protecting myself."

I fought the urge to face palm at the ludicrousness of his statement. I hated the ignorant teenage boy. "No you won't," Scott groaned. "Just trust me, all it does is make things worse!"

"Oh yeah really? Now you can you hear everything you want and run faster than humanly possible, sounds like a real hardship, McCall."

"Yeah, I can run really fast now. Except half the time I'm running away from people trying to _kill me_!" He calmed down a tad, sighing. "And I can hear things like my girlfriend telling people that she doesn't trust me any more, right before breaking up with me. I'm not lying to you! It's _ruins_ your life."

"It ruined your life. You know, you had all the power in the world and you didn't know what to do with it. You know what it's actually like? It's like you turned sixteen and someone bought you a Porsche when they should have started you out with a nice little Honda. Me? I drive a Porsche."

He turned around and stormed back into his precious Porsche (which I made a mental note to key next time I saw it in the school lot), sliding in and driving away with an unnecessary engine rev.

"What a douche-canoe," I mumbled, turning around and slipping back into the car. When the boys didn't move I tapped the outside of the door. "Come _on_," I prompted them. "I've got shit to get done."

Scott got dropped off first, on the edge of the reserve. He was quiet most of the drive, mumbling a thanks to his best friend and tumbling out of the car and wandering into the woods. I was curious, but I figured it was werewolf business or something, so I didn't pry.

"Hey Stiles," I said as he drove me back towards my house.

"Hey Jules," he replied, and my brow furrowed for a brief moment. I wasn't sure when he started calling me that, or when I'd decided I didn't mind. Either way it felt wrong to tell him off now, so I let it be.

"What do you know about wireless internet?" I asked him, keeping my eyes on the passing scenery.

There was a pause. "You mean Wifi?" he asked, his tone amused.

"Yes, yes," I responded impatiently, crossing my arms. "Do you know how to fix it?"

"Um, depends what's wrong with it, really," he said, and I saw him shrug from the corner of my eye.

I dug in my pocket, eventually pulling out a handful of crumpled bills. "I'll give you seven dollars if you'll come in with me and take a look at my 'Wifi'," I told him, finally looking his way.

He snorted, sending me a look like he wasn't sure whether I was being serious. "You don't have to bribe me, Jules," he said with an amused grin. "We're friends, and friends help friends with their Wifi."

I hesitated, but it was clear he wasn't taking the money, so I slipped it back into my pocket and chose to remain quiet for the rest of the trip. When we got to my modest little house I led the way up the drive, pulling out my keys and shoving the correct one into the lock.

"So what seems to be the problem?" Stiles asked with a smirk as I led the way over to the little machine sitting on the windowsill in my lounge room. I pointed to it, then to my old laptop sitting on the old oak desk in the corner. "Wow, how old is this thing? 203?" I shot him a dirty look at the dig about my age, but only to cover the smile threatening to break out, and he shot me a cheeky grin in response. He leaned forwards and booted it up. "I'm surprised you use a computer at all," he said. "I thought you lived like one of the Amish."

I rolled my eyes at him, moving to stand beside him as I watched him open up some sort of menu. "I have some friends in other countries that like to send emails, they're 'hip' like that."

Stiles chuckled, and I shot him a curious look. "You're so old," he said, but it didn't sound mean or scathing. In fact it sounded sort of...fond.

Before I could comment his stomach rumbled, a sign I took to mean he was hungry. "Want something to eat?" I asked, moving away from the desk where he was working and towards the kitchen.

"That'd be awesome," he responded distractedly. I moved into the other room, my shoes tapping against the tiles. I opened the fridge, staring into its depths. Covering two of my three shelves were assorted blood bags, on the other was an apple and a pack of gum, in the door was a can of lemonade and in the drawer at the bottom was an onion.

I frowned, pulling out the apple and can of lemonade. I may not have been a good cook, but I was one hell of an expert with a knife. I slid one out of it's drawer and cut the apple into quarters, then I put it on a plate. I carried it out to Stiles, offering the food and can of drink to him.

He looked down at what I offered him with a raised eyebrow. "An apple?"

I shrugged sheepishly, biting my lip. "It was literally this or an onion."

He laughed and took the food from me, immediately cracking open the can and taking a sip. "You know, if you're going to start making human friends, you should probably begin stocking your pantry a little better. Just because _you_ don't eat, it doesn't mean the rest of us should starve."

He said it jokingly, but he had a point, so I filed it away for later. He chewed on the apple slices as he worked, taking only another minute before he'd found the problem.

"You haven't updated your computer in a while, have you?" I stared at him, not sure what he meant. "You know those messages that pop up, asking you to update?" he asked slowly, trying a different approach. "Do you press 'remind me later'?"

"Yes."

"There's your problem," he said with a grin, shoving another slice in his mouth. "I fixed it for you," he said, taking in my tense expression. "It's updating now. It might take a while. Do you want me to hang around until it finishes?"

"I think I can handle it," I said, twisting my hands together in front of me. "I've got some stuff to do around town, so I'll just see you later?"

"Sure," he smiled before lifting up the can of drink, "Can I take this home with me?"

"Yeah, not like I'll drink it," I told him, leading him back out to the entryway. "Thanks, Stiles," I said awkwardly, not really liking how small the words made me feel.

"Any time, Juliet," he said with a grin and a wave, ducking out the door and heading for his Jeep.

It was quiet for a long time after Stiles left. I found I didn't like it as much. I used to enjoy the quiet, but now I'd had a taste of Stiles' presence, I found that being by myself just didn't cut it anymore. I tried not to think about what that meant, focusing instead on reorganising my book collection while I waited for the update to finish.

My phone rang as I was finishing off some long-overdue emails to my friends in Montreal, and I glanced at the screen, raising a curious eyebrow when I saw _Allison_ flashing in block letters.

"Yes?" I answered the phone abruptly, reaching across the desk and picking up a cigarette before wandering out onto the porch to smoke it. I didn't like smoking inside, the smell drove me crazy, made me crave it all the time.

"Juliet," Allison said, her voice sounding shaky.

"Yes?" I repeated, not really in the mood to socialise.

"If I ask you a question, will you answer me with total honesty?"

I hesitated. The answer was, of course, no, but something told me that was the wrong thing to say. "Yes," I said once more, frowning at how illiterate I was being today.

"Do you think Scott and I should be together?"

It took me off guard, how the hell was I supposed to answer that? "Why don't you go to Lydia with this sort of thing?" I asked, taking in another lungful of chemicals.

"Lydia's great, really," she said. "It's just that she sort of...made out with Scott in Coach's office."

"Yeah," I chuckled, remembering that night a few days ago on the full moon when Stiles had been whining about it to anyone who would listen. "I know. Stiles told me all about it."

"Oh," she sighed, and I got the feeling I'd said something wrong, even though I'd tried my hardest not to.

Did I think she and Scott should be together?

No.

He was a werewolf and she came from a family of hunters. It was doomed from the fucking start. I had to remind myself to be gentle, not to be so blunt for once.

"I think that the only person who gets to decide whether you should be together is you and him."

Was that good advice? It sounded solid enough.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she sighed.

"Maybe you should take a day off from worrying," I suggested in my lightest tone, flicking the ash from the end of my cigarette and halfheartedly waving back at my elderly neighbour who was gardening in her front yard. "Enjoy a smoothie, draw a bubble bath, read an old paperback, listen to your favourite record. It'll do you wonders."

She giggled over the phone line, and I felt proud that I'd finally said something at least a little right. "They don't call them 'records' anymore Juliet," she said amusedly.

I smirked to myself, glancing up at the cloudy sky, wishing it would rain already. "I guess I'm what they call an old soul."

"Born in the wrong generation?" she asked with another laugh.

"Something like that," I replied with a bitter smirk. "Listen, I've got to go," I told her, I really did have things to do in town. "And look, about the Scott thing, I will say this: he's a good guy," I said, cringing even as I said it at how cliché it sounded. "He fucked up, but I think he's worth a second chance." I stopped myself from continuing. "But like I said, it's your decision."

"Thanks Juliet," she said, a smile in her voice. "You actually really helped."

"Don't get used to it," I told her, hanging up immediately after for good measure.

* * *

I stared at the shelf of cereals. Why the bloody hell were there so many options? Through a process of elimination I'd narrowed it down to two potential candidates. One was called Fruity Pebbles, the other Lucky Charms. I contemplated which one Stiles would like best, then after reading the ingredients, decided he seemed like a marshmallows-for-breakfast kind of guy.

I tossed the Lucky Charms into the cart, moving further down the isle. I didn't have a list, I just showed up and figured I'd buy what seemed like must-haves for any kitchen. I reasoned with myself that if anyone came through my house and saw it empty of food they'd ask questions I didn't want to have to answer, so it was really in my best interest to stock the place with food, and it was absolutely _not _solely for Stiles' benefit.

Pasta was next. I wondered what kind regular people bought. Should I just get every kind? What kind would Stiles like best?

And as though I'd conjured him with my thoughts, a bewildered Stiles appeared in front of me, bag of carrots in one hand, a can of shaving cream in the other.

"Juliet?"

"Stiles?"

We stared at each other for a moment. "What are you doing?" he asked cautiously, looking at me through suspicious, narrowed eyes.

"Shopping," I said defensively, my grip tightening on the handle of my cart. "Is that a crime?"

"Not a crime," he said carefully. "Weird though, out of character even, considering you don't eat." He continued to observe me quietly while I forced my face remain impassive. Suddenly his eyes lit up like he'd solved a puzzle. "Is this because of what I said at your house earlier?"

"No," I replied too quickly, immediately wincing as I heard myself. A cheeky smirk worked its way onto his face and I rolled my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself," I said, my tone scathing. "You just made me realise it looked suspicious not to have any food in the house. That's _all_."

"Uh-huh," he nodded, that shit-eating grin of his still intact, clearly not believing a word coming out of my mouth. I bit back a sarcastic remark, turning back to the shelf full of pasta and frowning at the many options. How was I supposed to know which one to get? Which kind went better with the sauce I'd gotten? What kind had the best nutrition?

"But I guess, since you're here, you could pick out the basics for me," I said casually, keeping my eyes on the colourful boxes in front of me.

I could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, "You mean _help_ you?"

"I mean _assist_ me," I corrected cooly.

He chortled but otherwise didn't respond, his hand snapping out in front of me and picking out a small assortment of options, surveying them for a moment before dropping them in the cart. "I've been thinking," he said, shoving his purchases under one arm before falling into step with me, making our way to the end of the isle.

"Alert the media."

So much for no sarcastic comments.

"I've been _thinking_," he began again, completely ignoring my unnecessary input. "How do you go out in the sun?"

I was silent as we made our way through the confectionary isle, Stiles picking out the odd packet of chocolate or marshmallows as we walked.

"I mean, so far, there's been some truth to most legends, and it's the most well known fact about your kind. Werewolves change on a full moon, and vampires can't go out in the sun," he recited, clearly speaking directly from his research.

I wondered whether I should tell him, watching as he pulled out two little bottles of salt and pepper out once we were in the next isle, slipping them into the cart before muttering something about spices. It couldn't hurt, I reasoned, I couldn't imagine telling the kid would ever come back to bite me in the ass.

I stopped dead in the isle, causing Stiles to kick his toe on the wheel of the cart. He cursed, frowning as he looked up at me expectantly. I held up my hand, one single finger raised in the air.

"Are you seriously flipping me off right now? That's not an answer to my question."

I let a smirk slide across my lips. "I'm doing both," I said with a goading grin. "_Multitasking_." He shot me a sour look, so I rolled my eyes and held my hand out palm down, showing him the array of rings littered over my fingers. I let go of the cart with my other hand, using my index finger to point to the large, ancient ring that sat on the middle finger of my left hand. "See this ring?" I asked, and his eyes flickered between it and me confusedly. "This is what keeps me from turning to dust in the sun."

"So you _do_ burn up in the sun!" he exclaimed brightly, like he discovered a fossil gold.

I rolled my eyes, forcing myself not to flinch when he grasped my hand, pulling it closer to get a better look at the piece of jewellery.

"How does it work?"

"I don't know," I admitted, ignoring how warm and smooth his skin was. "Something to do with the stone, I think. It has to be a lapis lazuli. All I know is a witch spelled it for me centuries ago, and I don't for a second pretend to know how that mumbo-jumbo works."

His hands dropped mine like I'd burned him, and he stared up at me, glee spread upon his face. "Witches exist?" he asked in a hushed tone, clearly thrilled by the information.

"Vampires, werewolves," I shrugged, sliding both hands back on to the handle of the cart and pushing it further down the isle. "It's not such a huge jump."

"Do you know any?" he questioned eagerly, absentmindedly throwing an arm out and picking up a can of whipped cream, placing it gently in the cart. "Do you have witch friends?"

"I know plenty," I said with a small grin. "Don't know if I could call any of them friends..."

"None of them like you?"

"Hey," I cried indignantly, pretending to be hurt by the assumption. "How do you know it's not _me_ who doesn't like _them_."

"Um, because I've _met_ you?" he responded dryly, a mischievous smirk on his lips. "And we may not have known each other for long, but I can tell making friends isn't your strong suit."

"I'm friends with _you_, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but I'm easy," he replied, tripping over air as he realised how that sounded. He cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck, red blotches appearing on his face.

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to hide my own smirk. "Witches aren't known for their love of..." I paused as an elderly couple wandered passed, shooting them my warmest smile. "_My kind_," I muttered under my breath so nobody overheard. "We tolerate each other."

"Are there any in town?" he asked just as quietly, picking up a packet of cookies, considering them for a moment before nodding to himself and dropping them in with everything else.

"Not that I know of. They're not like wolves, they don't have a scent, so they're harder to pick out."

"Then how do you know if you've met one?"

"There's this...crackle in the air," I tried to explain. "Kind of like static. You can only feel it when they're close by and doing something...witchy. Plus, if they know who we are they usually seek us out to set down ground rules. Judgy little things, witches."

"Man, I'd love to meet one," he said as another colourful packet was tossed into the cart.

"Stick with me kid," I said with a smirk and a Brooklyn accent. "I can show you the world."

He spun around and gaped at me for a full thirty seconds. "You have a sense of humour?" he asked playfully, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not a robot," I responded, doing my best to frown, forcing away the smile dancing at the corners of my mouth.

"Is that like a vampire thing, then?" he inquired seriously after a long pause as we made our way into the frozen foods isle. "The emotions, or lack thereof?"

I watched him pull open of the glass doors, grasping onto a bucket of ice cream, putting it in the cart and rubbing his hands on his jeans to warm them up. "I'll tell you what _is _a vampire thing," I said, very obviously changing the subject, but I didn't care. "We don't get cold."

"Really?" he asked, thankfully not bringing attention to my avoidance of the topic. "Like, ever? You wear jackets all the time though."

"To keep up appearances," I responded lightly. "It wouldn't be smart to wear a t-shirt in a snow storm, it'd draw too much attention. So I got used to putting on a coat whenever it looks cold." My eyebrows pulled together as he tugged a bottle of chocolate milk off the shelf. "Besides, lessens the chances of somebody feeling how unnaturally cold my skin is and getting grossed out."

"I don't think it's gross."

My smooth steps didn't falter as I glanced over at him with sharp eyes, considering his words carefully.

Those familiar red blotches appeared on his freckled cheeks and he cleared his throat, pretending to be focused on the label of a tub of butter. I watched him for another long moment before finally turning away and gazing unseeingly at the shelf of chilled dairy goods.

Every time the kid opened his mouth he surprised me in the best possible way, and I didn't think I'd ever get used to it.


	13. Beautiful With You

_I've been the strong one for so long_

_But, I was wrong_

_Doesn't make you weak cause you needed someone_

_I'm not holding back and I know what I want_

Beautiful With You – Halestorm

* * *

"Are you going to the dance?"

I looked up from my book, pulling the cigarette from between my lips and looking up at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. "No," I said, flicking the ash from the tip before looking back down at the words on the page.

"Why not?" he asked me, sliding down the brick wall I was leaning against until he was sitting beside me, his bag next to him.

"Because I don't care?"

"Is that your answer for everything? That's not a very good attitude to have towards life."

"I don't care."

He groaned in annoyance, and I could feel him roll his eyes. "What if I told you I needed you to go to that dance?"

I slipped the bookmark back between the pages of my novel, snapping it shut and shoving it into my bag, taking another drag before looking over at him with a frown. "Please tell me this isn't you asking to be my date."

He cringed immediately, practically recoiling at the thought. I was kidding, but his reaction stung a little bit, not that I would ever admit it. "Of course not," he said. "Listen, Scott needs to get into that dance, and I figure if he runs into any trouble then having compulsion-capable vampire on hand would make things run a bit smoother."

I considered his words as I blew smoke rings. It wasn't like I actually had any plans for that night, and it wouldn't be the end of the world if I did go, I might even enjoy myself. I doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

"Fine," I said, crushing the butt of my cigarette in my hand, singeing my skin before I dropped it to the ground, the minor wound healing instantly.

"Great!" he chirped happily, looking like he was holding himself back from fist pumping the air. "Okay, so I already bought you a ticket," he said, digging in his bag for a moment before pulling out a small piece of paper.

I took it with a frown. "How'd you know I'd say yes?"

"I have _some_ faith in you, you know?" he replied with a smirk, clapping his hands together. "Now, next on the agenda. A date."

"No."

"What?"

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Jules-yes!"

I didn't reply, I knew that if I did we'd just end up going round in circles. I glared at him, but it didn't seem to put him off. He merely turned to scan the quad, looking for a potential candidate.

"Look, you can't show up alone, it's pathetic."

"You're pathetic," I grumbled sourly, but he didn't take it to heart.

"Would you just pick someone? I'd do it for you, but the only person I know of that doesn't have a date yet is Greenburg," he said, still searching the crowd.

"I'd rather carve my eyes out with a butter knife."

"Thought so," he hummed before gesturing for me to move forwards. "Would you just go ask someone already? Worse comes to worst you could just compel yourself a date."

I looked at him, affronted by the suggestion. "I don't need to compel anyone to get a date," I hissed in annoyance.

"Prove it," he said with a smug grin, and I knew he was baiting me, playing me like a fiddle. But I found I didn't really mind. I shoved my bag into his arms, sliding to my feet and marching across the quad. I paused in the centre, my eyes scanning the gathered groups, looking for a victim.

Mostly everyone was in groups, giggling amongst themselves or shoving each other playfully. I didn't feel like approaching any of the clusters, so when I spotted a boy sitting on a bench off to the side with his head in a book, I jumped at the opportunity.

"Hello," I said, appearing in the spot next to him. He jumped a mile high, a high pitched yelp escaping his lips as he dropped his book, it landing with a thud to the cement. I reached down and scooped it up, brushing the dirt off of it before handing it back, listening to the sound of his heart slamming against his sternum.

"Uh, h-hello," he stuttered awkwardly, looking incredibly confused as to why I'd approached him.

I decided to just get it over with. "Do you want to go to the dance with me?" I asked casually, lips curving up as his heartbeat sped up even further at my words.

"Do I-what?"

"Want to go? To the dance? With me?" I said again, slowly in case he wasn't all there in the head. He seemed intelligent enough though, and I hated to make assumptions.

He was silent for a long time, watching me. "Do you even know my name?" he asked finally, brow furrowed.

"No," I admitted easily. I stuck out my hand, knowing it was the polite thing to do. "I'm Juliet."

"I-I know," he said, slipping his hand into mine. His skin was warm and smooth against my own, and he made no comment about my temperature. "I'm Isaac. Isaac Lahey." I shot him my sweetest smile, and he returned it with a shaky one of his own. He was actually quite attractive once I noticed it. He had curly ash blonde hair and a jawline that could cut glass. His eyes were an astonishing baby blue, and I got the feeling he was sort of a loner. Maybe he wasn't such a bad choice then. 'Birds of a feather', and all that. "Is this some sort of joke?"

I tilted my head, letting go of his hand and crossing my arms. "No," I said honestly.

"Why ask me?"

"I need a date, and you were the most appealing option in the quad," I admitted, seeing no point in making anything else up.

"I appreciate your honesty," he said with a slightly more comfortable smile, seeming to warm up to me, which I found odd since it was in human nature to never warm up to us.

"So will you?" I asked, and he tilted his head curiously. I tried not to roll my eyes. "Go to the dance with me?"

"Oh, um," he mumbled, frowning at his shoes for a long moment before speaking up again. "Yeah. Yeah, I will."

"Great," I said with an easy smile. "Uh, maybe next lunch I could..."

"We have English together," he said awkwardly, scratching a spot behind his ear. "And Chemistry."

"Oh," I replied with a grimace. "Right. Well I'll see you in one of those and we can go over the details?"

"Sounds good," he nodded, a smile once again growing on his pale lips.

"Great," I smiled, forcing it to light up my eyes. "See you Isaac."

He raised his hand in farewell, but I was already sliding from the bench, striding back towards Stiles, whose eyes followed my every move.

"One date; no compulsion," I said smugly, slipping back into my previously vacated seat and moving my bag back to my lap. Stiles had a sour scowl twisted across his face, and he stared at me with hard eyes. "Who pissed in your cheerios while I was gone?"

All at once the expression cleared and he rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and smiling slightly. "Okay, step two completed. Step three: a dress."

"I'll just wear something from home," I said, waving off his words.

"Come on," he whined. "Look, Allison wants me to meet her at the mall after school, she said she has something to tell me. Why don't you come with me and we'll pick out a dress?"

"_We_?" I asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow at him.

Blotchy red spots appeared on his freckle splattered cheeks and he cleared his throat. "I mean, you can pick one out and I'll just be there for...moral support."

I laughed quietly at his expense, tipping my head back to bump against the bricks. "Whatever you say Stiles."

* * *

Stiles looked incredibly out of place in the women's section in the shop we were in, standing with his arms crossed as I sifted through the racks, looking for something that wasn't totally repulsive. I picked out a white cotton dress, holding it up against me and raising a curious eyebrow at him. He frowned and shook his head.

"You're too pale to wear white," he said. I crinkled my nose at him but didn't disagree, slipping it back into place and moving on to the next rack. "Is that like a vampire thing? The paleness?"

He spoke loudly, and a woman a row over shot him a look. I rolled my eyes. "Say it louder, I don't think the cashier behind the register heard you," I told him sarcastically and he winced apologetically. "But yes, it is a trait of vampirism to be extraordinarily pale."

I pulled out another dress, this one dark blue and ankle-length. I appraised it for a long moment before shaking my head, not even bothering to get Stiles' opinion before putting it back and moving on. "Check this out," I heard from behind me, and I turned around to look at Stiles who held up a bright pink poodle skirt that looked straight out of something from an old movie. "Did you ever wear this sort of thing, you know, '_back in the day_'?"

I wanted to say no, but I didn't want to lie. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck for a moment before replying. "Yeah," I admitted, forcing my lips up into a smile. Stiles' face lit up excitedly.

"You have pictures, right?" he asked eagerly and before I could stop myself I nodded. He threw his fist into the air in celebration. "Oh man, I can't wait to see them."

I rolled my eyes even though suddenly I didn't have to force my smile anymore.

"You ever meet Elvis?" he asked after a beat as I tugged a lilac dress from the rack. I held it up against myself, then with a smirk moved and held it up against him. He rolled his eyes but struck a pose anyway, and I chuckled before putting it back.

"If I say no will this conversation end?" I asked scathingly, though it lacked any bite. He rolled his eyes, knowing I was just putting on an act.

"So you have?" he asked excitedly.

"Yeah," I shrugged, grinning over at him. "I compelled my way backstage at one of his Vegas gigs, it was pretty cool."

"You've been to Vegas?"

"Many times."

"Man, I'd love to go there. Gotta wait until I'm twenty-one though, otherwise there's really no point in going...unless _someone_ hooked me up with a realistic fake ID-"

"No."

He humphed, but knew to stop pushing. I smirked at him, watching as he picked up a women's fedora sitting on a shelf and tossing it onto his head. He paused, going cross-eyed as he looked up to see it. I snorted into my hand at the sight.

"Uh-uh," I shook my head negatively, wiggling my fingers for him to put it back. "Nope, never put a hat on ever again."

"What?" he asked dubiously, placing a hand to the hat protectively.

"It makes you look like a douche," I told him honestly, and he grimaced before taking it off and setting it back down where he found it.

"How about James Dean?" he asked again after a moment as I eyed a magenta dress.

It wasn't hard to see he was continuing our previous topic, and I winked at him over my shoulder. "Oh yeah."

"Really?" he questioned giddily.

"Nope," I laughed, watching him deflate. "I did meet Marilyn Monroe once though."

"Where?"

"She came and gave a talk at the college I was in at the time," I shrugged. "She wasn't really famous then though, so I didn't think it was a big deal until years later."

"Who else?" he asked eagerly.

"Hung out with Prince at a party once. That was a good night. Billy Crystal is a total dog, and don't even get me started on David Bowie."

"You have literally the coolest life," he gushed, picking out a black dress and holding it up for me to see. I shook my head at it and he slid it back into place.

"Yeah, being one of the undead and a complete social pariah is a real score," I replied sardonically and he tutted quietly, rolling his eyes at my dramatics.

We were quiet for a long time, me sifting through dress options and Stiles waiting patiently, until I'd finally narrowed it down to two dresses. I slipped into the changing room without telling him, not wanting to make a big deal of it.

I put on the green strapless one first. On the rack it looked gorgeous, but on it made me look like I was wrapped in seaweed. I swapped it for the red one, and after a full minute of staring I decided it was acceptable; tight around the bodice, made with delicate lace with long, loose sleeves and a short hemline. "Jules?" Stiles asked loudly from outside, and reluctantly I slipped from the changing room, standing in front of the curtain, my hands curled together awkwardly in front of me, my eyes on my shoes. "Huh," he hummed as he stopped in front of me, and I felt his eyes rake my body.

I realised I was being ridiculous and looked up, meeting his coffee coloured eyes.

He was smiling. "It's not terrible," he said casually, and for his sake I ignored the way his heart was racing. I nodded and went back behind the curtain, pulling it off and tugging on my old ripped jeans and comfortable baggy sweatshirt.

Stiles' text alert went off as I slipped my feet back into my worn combat boots.

"Allison's says to meet her and Lydia at the perfume counter," he told me when I stepped out, red dress thrown over my arm.

Great, Lydia was tagging along. I nodded without complaining, moving over to the counter, placing my items on it and pulling out my wallet.

"That'll be $245.59," the cashier told me, and Stiles sucked in a breath from behind me.

"Jules, are you kidding? Get something cheaper, you don't even want to go to this stupid thing..."

"Stiles, relax," I said, throwing him a reassuring smile over my shoulder.

"No way, seriously," he began, reaching forwards to move the dress off the counter. I slapped his hand away, glaring at him warningly before he could continue.

I handed the confused looking lady my card before leaning back to whisper to him, "I have over a hundred years of interest in my bank account, Stiles. Trust me when I say this won't even put a dent in my hoard."

His face scrunched up as the lady handed me the receipt to sign. I scribbled my signature, taking my bag from her with a nod. "Then why do you live in such a dump?"

"Just because I have money doesn't mean I particularly like spending it," I told him with a shrug. "Come on, perfume counter's this way."

"I thought you didn't know your way around the mall yet?"

"I can smell it," I admitted with a wince.

"Oh," he muttered. "Cool."

We ended up leaning against the counter, people watching as we waited for the girls to show up. "So why's Allison meeting you anyway?"

He lit up at my words. "You'll never believe what she's doing for me." I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me what it was. "She's getting Lydia to go to the formal with me."

My brow touched my hairline for a moment in surprise, before I nodded at the eager boy, smiling unenthusiastically for him. "Great," I said flatly, and his expression dropped.

"Why don't you like her?"

"Because she's shallow and vapid and entirely boring," I said shamelessly, turning around and picking up a small bottle of floral perfume, sniffing the lid curiously before spraying it onto my wrists.

"You're wrong," he said like it was an obvious fact, and I put down the glass bottle, watching him as he struggled to put together the right words. "She's actually really smart. I mean, _really_ smart. She knows more than I probably ever will. And she's kind, underneath the whole 'popular girl' persona. I think she just acts shallow because that's what people expect of her. Kind of like how you act like an uncaring, unfeeling bitch because that's what people expect from you."

He had a point, though the last thing I wanted to do was admit it.

"Would you just give her a chance?"

Then he looked at me with those big, sad, eyes and I couldn't find it in me to say no.

"Sure," I muttered, nose crinkled like I smelled something putrid.

His pleading expression gave way to a satisfied grin and I rolled my eyes again. He picked up a bottle of his own, sniffing it before accidentally pressing the trigger, making it spray in his face. He coughed, dropping the bottle. I picked it from the air, catching it before it could hit the ground and laying it gently on the counter.

"Hey guys," Allison greeted us with a bright smile, waving happily, a scowling Lydia on her tail.

"Hey Allison!" Stiles chirped, standing up straighter, shooting them a dopey grin. "Hey Lydia."

The queen bee didn't stop for a moment, not even acknowledging he'd even spoken as she brushed passed him, heading straight for the dress section we'd just come from. "What do you think about teal, Allison?" she asked her friend, already intent on searching for an outfit.

"I think it's a great colour, it'll really make your eyes pop," the older girl responded dutifully.

Lydia nodded and pulled a dress off the rack, throwing it over onto a surprised Stiles. "What's in the bag?" Allison asked me quietly as we trailed along behind the pair, the boy's arms quickly being piled with more clothing.

"My dress for the formal," I told her.

"Who are you taking?" she asked, leaning closer like I was about to tell her the best gossip ever. Suddenly horror flooded her face, and hands shooting up to cover her glossy lips. "Oh my God, you didn't want to take Stiles did you?!"

I jerked back in shock at her words. "No?" I said immediately, cringing at the very thought. "Of course not."

"So you guys are just friends?" she confirmed, still looking troubled.

"Barely even that," I shrugged carelessly, but she sent me an annoyingly knowing look nonetheless. Okay, so that was a blatant lie; Stiles had the potential to be the best friend I'd had in decades, but that didn't mean I liked admitted my pathetic affection for the kid.

"Ah, okay, so are you just gonna try these on right now?" Stiles asked from ahead of us. "All of them?"

Lydia didn't have the decency to answer, sticking her nose in the air and strutting off towards the changing rooms. I rolled my eyes but didn't comment to keep my word of being a good girl to Stiles. "These are pretty," Allison spoke up again, running her hands over the material of the dresses on the rack.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my fingertips began to tingle and my mouth went dry. The alpha was here. I could sense him.

"That's not your colour," a voice behind us said, and I spun around instantly, slamming my lips closed so nobody could see my exposed fangs. Peter was standing beside Allison, looking between her and the dress she held with a critical eye. "Sorry if that was intrusive but considering your skin tone I'd go lighter."

"Watch a lot of _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_, do you?" I asked, my tone bitterly cold.

"It's fine, Juliet," Allison said, looking over her shoulder at me with a small smile. "It's because I'm pale?" she said, looking back at the alpha.

"Fair," he corrected sweetly. "I mean you can't call skin like yours 'pale', not skin that perfect."

My hands curled into fists of stone, my nails digging into the skin, though not hard enough to draw blood. "Okay," Allison giggled, clearly uncomfortable.

"Trust me, I have a unique perspective on the subject," he said, twisting around to pick up a new dress. My jaw clicked, and I glanced back to where Stiles stood just out of sight. He was safe, for now. I wished we weren't in a crowded store with security cameras watching our every move. If this meeting had been set in a secluded place it would be going very differently. "Do you mind?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before grabbing her hand and pulling it to him, pressing it to the fabric of the new dress. "See? Much better."

He put it back where he found it, turning back around to smile at her, completely ignoring me.

"You're not here alone, are you?" he asked lightly. "Shopping for dresses with friends?" I stepped forwards, hesitating only a brief moment before slipping my hand into hers. If she noticed my cooler than average skin she didn't show it, squeezing my hand back gratefully while a scared and vulnerable expression covered her pretty face. "High school dance," he said like he was only just figuring it out.

"Formal," she replied softly, and I bit down on my tongue with my fangs to keep from snapping at him. I might not be willing to risk exposure, but who knew what the psychopathic bastard was willing to do.

"I for one, think the light pink dress would do wonders for your-"

"That's enough," I snapped, squeezing Allison's hand tighter when her heart rate picked up. "I think you need to leave."

"I'm sorry, am I making you...uncomfortable?" he asked, feigning concern. I stepped forwards so Allison couldn't see my face, glaring up at the alpha (which looked ridiculous since he had nearly a foot on me). The blood drained to my eyes, which quickly turned a bloody crimson. His smirk only widened, and Allison desperately tugged me back to stand beside her, apparently scared for my safety.

"_Attention shoppers, the owner of a blue Honda licence number: 2IKPL3, your car is being towed_."

"Oh crap, that's my car," Allison swore, dropping my hand and moving to dig around in her bag. She turned to go, but paused and looked back at me, "Are you coming?"

"I'll wait for Stiles," I said, not taking my eyes off the alpha.

Allison hesitated. "Are you sure?" She clearly didn't want me alone with the guy.

I glanced away from him to flash her a reassuring smile, fangs hidden back inside my gums. "Go, quickly," I told her lightly, and with a final frown she nodded, turning away and rushing down the isle towards the exit.

"I continue to be impressed with your ingenuity Scott, but remember: you can't be everywhere all the time," Peter said, and I blinked, not having realised Scott was with us. For the first time since seeing him I extended my bubble of awareness out, my senses easily picking up the scent of Scott nearby. "And as for you," he began, shifting his piercing gaze to meet my own. "What's a little nomadic vampire like yourself doing in werewolf territory like Beacon Hills? Surely things would be more convenient for you in say...Mystic Falls?"

"Convenient, yes," I said with a wicked smirk. "But not nearly as fun. I like giving idiotic wolves a run for their money, must be my sense of adventure."

He stepped closer, eyes flashing red for a split second. "I'm stronger than you."

"And I'm faster," I said, staring up at him, my expression ice cold. "So I'd say the winner of a wrestling match would be solely up to chance, and are you _really_ willing to take that risk, Peter?"

He smiled, taking what I'd said with a grain of salt. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, leach."

"Can barely wait, mutt."

With a final wolfish grin he disappeared around the corner. There was a beat, then Scott came tumbling out from his hiding place, heart beating wildly. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Of course I'm okay," I said with a frown. "You should be keeping an eye on Allison."

"I had to make sure you'd be alright."

For a split second I was almost...touched. Then common sense clicked back into place and I rolled my eyes, gently pushing him back the way Allison had gone. "Go find her," I said. "I'll watch Stiles and the Barbie doll."

He nodded, walking as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself as he made his way to his love.

* * *

It was the night.

I hadn't been looking forward to it, and now that it was here, I was, if possible, even less enthusiastic about the whole thing. I leaned against the entrance, cigarette in hand as I scanned the crowd for my date. Neither of us had a car, and he said walking to either of our houses would be too far out of each others way or some lame excuse like that. Either way we hadn't arrived together, so now I was just waiting for him to show up.

I tapped the heel of my boot on the ground to the beat of the music coming from inside. I didn't know the song so I couldn't hum along, I just nodded my head and took long, relaxing drags of smoke.

"That'll kill you, you know?" a somewhat familiar voice asked, and I looked up at Isaac as he approached.

He looked good, apart from the split lip and slight limp he was sporting. His suit was a few sizes too big and his shoes squeaked as he walked. "Who kicked your ass?" I asked teasingly, not expecting the question to make him wince like he was in more pain. "You clean up nice," I tried again, and this time he smiled shyly, hands twisting in front of him.

"You too."

I raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, referring to my minimal makeup and third-day hair.

He smiled wider, "Seriously, you do."

That was just the hormones and my unnatural vampiric pull talking, but I let it be, dropping my half finished cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with the toe of my boot. "Shall we?" I asked, inclining my head towards the entrance. He nodded, eager but still shy, and didn't move until I did first, having me lead the way.

The music was louder once we were inside, but I still didn't recognise the song. I walked over to the punch bowl, hoping somebody had spiked it already. I poured a cup, took a long sip and grinned when it had the bite that came with tequila.

"Want some spiked punch?" I called to Isaac over to music, and he nodded, looking a little nervous and red, as though his tie was choking him. I handed one over anyway, something in the back of my mind telling me that it should have been part of my new code of conduct not to supply minors with alcohol, but I couldn't find it in me to care. "Do you want to dance?" I asked after a beat, both of us pressed up against the far wall.

"Uh," he hesitated, glancing down at his leg with a frustrated look. "I-I don't think I should..."

"That's fine," I replied with what I hoped was my softest smile. I reached out and grabbed his elbow, tugging him away from the wall and over to the bleachers. It was the furthest away from the source of the music, therefore the easiest place to talk.

We sat down somewhere towards the top, overlooking the sizeable crowd. "So where're you from?" Isaac asked me, sipping his drink, trying to hide his wince at the taste.

"New York," I said dishonestly, sticking with the same story I'd been using in this God forsaken town. "You?"

"Beacon Hills, born and raised," he said with a sour smile.

"Any siblings?" I asked to be polite, but once again I'd said the wrong thing, as he cringed like I'd kicked him.

"I had a brother," he answered reluctantly.

I was quiet for a time, considering how to reply. Eventually I bumped his shoulder lightly with mine and he looked down at me with hesitant eyes. "I had a sister," I told him, for once not having to lie.

His expression was sombre, but he lit up slightly when I spoke. Happy I could empathise, perhaps?

"McCall!" Coach's familiar voice yelled through the hall, bouncing off the walls and clearly audible over the music. Isaac jumped, while I merely looked calmly across the room, eyes instantly locking onto Scott pushing through the crowd in a desperate attempt to escape Coach.

I practically fell off my chair laughing when he darted into Danny's arms, making it impossible for Coach to yell at him, especially when all eyes turned to them, the music stopping and everything going silent, leaving the Coach to awkwardly back-peddle out of there.

Isaac was chuckling beside me, clearly more of an introvert than an extravert, but I didn't mind. It was a nice change of pace from Stiles' constant fifth-gear presence. "So what's the deal with you and Stilinski?" Isaac asked after a pause as we both recovered from the spectacle.

"We're friends," I shrugged, for once not minding that I was admitting that. "He's a good guy."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I haven't talked to him much, even though we've been on the team together all year."

I started, draining the last of the spiked punch from my cup before throwing him a surprised look. "You're on the lacrosse team?"

"Yeah," he nodded, cracking a small smile. "I don't have many friends, so I kind of go unnoticed. I'm not surprised you didn't know."

It was quiet for a moment as both of us watched everyone dance below us.

"Did you know that Coach lost a testicle to exposure a few years back?"

I started once again. This guy had a knack for keeping me on my toes. "He _what_?"

"Yeah, he talks about it all the time," Isaac laughed.

"So he only has one-?"

"Yeah."

I threw my head back and laughed loudly. I elbowed Isaac gently, running a hand through my ebony hair to keep it off my face, taking a deep breath as I stopped laughing. I was about to ask for more details when I felt the heavy weight of eyes on me. I sat up straighter, eyes narrowing as I stared out into the crowd, looking for any hint of the alpha.

I couldn't see the older werewolf anywhere, so I put it down to one of the creepier students and turned back to my conversation with Isaac.

Soon enough the music slowed, and I looked to my date with mischievous eyes. "Can we dance now?" I asked, fluttering my eyelashes dramatically. "We could get away with standing still and swaying for a few songs."

He looked like he wanted to say no, but he changed his mind at the last second. "Sure," he said, standing to his feet, wobbling only minimally, and holding out his arm for me to take. I did so with a smile, leading him down the stairs, being careful not to take a suspicious amount of his weight.

We made our way to the edge of the dance floor. He was more than a head taller than me, so the angle I had to tilt myself to probably looked humorous, but we didn't care.

"Check out Lindsey Farrowfield's neck," he leant down to mumble in my ear. I didn't know who that was, and my pointed look said as much. He laughed again. "The one in the pink floral dress, six-o'clock."

I gently spun us around, pushing myself to my toes to look over his shoulder at the girl. She had several red hickeys spread across the pale skin of her neck, and the guy she was dancing with had a good handful of her ass. I sniggered into Isaac's shoulder, feeling him rumble as he chuckled along with me.

"You know," I began, tightening my arms around his neck. "You turned out not to be such a bad date, Isaac."

He didn't answer, just ducking his head and smiling. We danced for a long time, so long I was sure his hurt leg was starting to ache, but he didn't complain, apparently happy to continue dancing with me. I felt happy; maybe I'd made another friend in the werewolf-ridden hellhole.

He pulled back, opening his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by a hand slamming down on my shoulder. I stepped back from him, turning to look at Jackson, irritated and expectant. "What?"

"They're here for Scott," he said, sounding breathless, eyes glancing at Isaac before focusing back on me. "And Stiles needs you outside."

He had to speak in code since Isaac was listening in, but I got the message loud and clear. I pulled away from my date, frowning apologetically. "Sorry, I need to go Isaac," I said quickly. "I'll see you later okay?"

I didn't wait for his reply, it didn't matter. I took off at my fastest human pace, my small and sensible heals clicking against the floor. As soon as I was out of the gym I pushed myself faster, disappearing to the human eye as I sped through the halls. I all but fell out of the front doors, looking around wildly for my friend and his stupid date.

"Stiles?!" I yelled, anxiety creeping through me. I took a sniff of the cool night air, biting my tongue when I noticed one that stood out from all the rest. Blood.

I booked it, rounding the school, dashing onto the field where two figures were kneeling over an unconscious form. I rematerialised at their side, my fist slamming into Peter's jaw, sending him flying back several feet. He climbed back up after only a split second, growling furiously at me.

My fangs slipped free, blood filling my eyes, the white turning red, and I let out a purely animalistic snarl, crouching defensively in front of Stiles and Lydia. He ran at me but I easily dodged out of the way, landing a painful kick to his abdomen. He grunted but swung around, slamming his own fist into my jaw. My head snapped to the side as I spat out a mouthful of blood. I went to kick him between the legs, but he caught my ankle and used my own momentum against me, slamming me into the ground. My head cracked against the ground and spots danced in my vision for a long moment.

Next thing I knew I was being picked up by my throat and held in the air. I couldn't breath, but that wouldn't kill me. My feet kicked, looking for any sort of traction, any hint of ground.

"Asshole," I chocked, desperately pulling at his hand.

"That's what I hate about vampires," he tutted. "Always so mouthy." He sighed, turning to face Stiles as he brought me to his chest, hand still wrapped painfully tightly around my windpipe. I was glad to have my feet on the ground though; silver lining. "Since the threat of the human's life isn't enough to make you cooperate, maybe the life of this vampire's will be..."

I looked at Stiles, listening to the sound of his heart slamming away in his chest. I could smell the fear on him. Well, I would have, if I'd been able to breathe.

"Do you know what a werewolf bite does to a vampire, Stiles?" Peter asked, watching the boy as he shook, glaring with as much hate as he could muster at the alpha. He was so angry that his eyes were watering, and if anything I felt bad for making him upset. "It kills them, yes. But not instantly. No, it's a slow and _painful_ death. First are the shakes, then the sweats. It's like having the flu. Then comes the hallucinations. Vivid, vivid hallucinations. Then the psychosis, oh, now that's the worst part." There was a pause, and a tear slipped down Stiles' cheek. "Need I continue? Give me what I want, and I won't bite your little undead girlfriend."

"Don't Sti-" he cut me off, tightening his grip on my throat.

"Look," Stiles began shakily, and I shut my eyes in defeat. "I think he knew..."

"Knew what?" Peter asked impatiently.

"Derek, I think he knew he was going to get caught."

"By the Argents? And?"

"And when they were shot, he and Scott...I think he took Scott's phone."

"Why?"

"Stiles-" I tried again, but Peter growled in my ear.

"Say another word and I'll snap your neck. You'll be out of action for a good few hours then, and you wouldn't want that, would you?" he warned me, and I glared at him with every ounce of hate I could muster. Which was a lot more than the kid could.

"All phones have GPS now," he said. "So if he still has it and if it's still on, you can find him."

The alpha was silent for a long time, considering his words. He finally relaxed his hold on my neck, but still held tight enough that I couldn't move; at least I could breathe. He leant forwards, lips brushing my ear as he spoke. "If you run, he dies," he murmured to me, squeezing in warning one final time before letting me go.

And I didn't run.

Of course I didn't run, like I could leave Stiles alone with that creep. I stepped to his side, and the kid's hand instantly wrapped around mine, tugging me behind him like that would in any way protect me. I glanced at the unconscious girl on the ground, noticing Stiles watching her. "You're both coming with me."

"You don't need Juliet," Stiles spoke up immediately. "Just take me."

I rolled my eyes at him, too tense to find him adorable right then. "But you see Stiles, having a vampire on my side could be very beneficial."

"She'd never help you," he spat.

Peter smirked. "I think she will. Especially when your fragile human life hangs in the balance."

Stiles' heart picked up again, and I squeezed his hand once more, letting him know I was still there. "What's to say I don't just take him and run?" I asked, my tone deceivingly light.

"I'll come back the next day. And the next. And the next. And the one after that," he tilted his head to the side, peering at me through beady little eyes. "You can't protect him forever." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, raising it to his lips and dabbing at the blood there, completely aware of the sinking dread in my gut. He was right, eventually I'd slip up and he'd get to Stiles. If we ran, who knew how long it could go on for? Our best bet was to ride this through now, maybe I'd get a chance to catch the alpha unawares, get a chance to end this once and for all. "Come along, children," he said condescendingly, and I cringed, biting back a quip about how many years I had over him.

"No, I'm not just letting you leave her here," Stiles protested, hand slipping from mine as he knelt by a barely breathing Lydia's side.

"You don't have a choice, Stiles. You're coming with me," Peter replied calmly, frowning down at the girl for a moment before nodding to himself. "Okay, call your friend. Tell Jackson to come and get her."

Stiles complied, taking a step away as he called the jock. I peered down at the girl with a frown. Either she'd die, or she'd wake up with a new set of canines. Either way I still didn't like her.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys hoping you like this chapter. Almost at the end of the first season, and as we move into the second one things are going to be heating up big time between Stiles and Juliet, can't wait for you all to read it :)**

**Pop me a review if you enjoyed this one xo**


	14. Howl

_Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart_

_drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart_

Howl – Florence + The Machine

* * *

As far as car rides went, it was definitely one of the more awkward ones I'd had in my time.

Stiles' heart had yet to slow, continuing to beat in his chest like it was trying to escape. The cab of his Jeep reeked with the scent of his fear, but neither I nor Peter mentioned it.

The alpha said nothing but to direct Stiles to some kind of parking garage, still and empty of human life. He slid out first, while Stiles and I hesitated. Eventually the kid climbed out too and I was quick to follow. Before I could intercept Peter grabbed him roughly, dragging him across a few spaces to where another car sat. I didn't try and rip him back, he could just end up getting hurt.

"Whose car is this?" he asked curiously as Peter let him go with a shove, pulling a set of keys from his pocket.

"It belonged to my nurse."

"What happened to your nurse-_oh my God_," Stiles exclaimed, gagging at the corpse that lay curled in the trunk which Peter had thoughtlessly exposed. I literally couldn't have cared less, but it definitely affected Stiles. The kid looked like he was going to hurl, and I immediately stepped closer, pressing a cold hand to his shoulder. He didn't acknowledge it, and his heart if anything sped up, but I didn't move it, even as the alpha shoved a laptop case into his limp hands.

"I got better."

It was quiet for a moment as Peter shut the trunk, snatching the case from Stiles' hands and ripping it open. "Good luck getting a signal down here," he said as I slid my hand from his shoulder. My skin felt cool after getting used to his warmth. Peter slipped a small black device from his pocket and handed it to the boy. "Oh, Wifi," he muttered before glancing up at the computer. "And you're a Mac guy. Does that go for all werewolves or just a personal preference?"

"Turn it on. Get connected," Peter ordered.

"You're really killing the whole werewolf-mystique thing," he replied under his breath, leaning forward to do as he was told. "Look, you still need Scott's username and password and I'm sorry, but I don't know them."

I winced at the stutter his heart gave. If I hadn't missed it there was no way Peter had.

"You know both of them."

"No, I don't."

"Even if I couldn't hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you're lying."

"Dude, I swear to God-"

Peter's ugly fingers curled around his neck and slammed Stiles' face into the metal trunk of the car. I reacted instantly, a snarl ripping from my chest as I leapt forwards, pulling Stiles behind me where he was safe.

"I can be very persuasive Stiles," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye, making both of us unsteady. "Don't make me persuade you."

"Like you'd get to him," I growled, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, readying myself to attack if needed. He smiled like I'd made a joke. "Laugh all you want, you know how evenly matched we are."

"And you know that the second you come at me I'm going to go at him with everything I have, and I won't stop until he's dead."

It was quiet, no sounds in the garage but Stiles' frantic heart and heavy breathing. Finally, I felt a soft touch to the small of my back, and I relaxed under the touch, standing flat on my feet again. "It's okay, Jules," Stiles said calmly, thumb brushing along the fabric of my shirt almost tenderly. I nodded, just barely, but he caught it and moved away from me, stepping up to the laptop and beginning to hit the keys. "What happens after you find Derek?" he asked the alpha, glancing over at him with resentment.

"Don't think, Stiles. _Type_."

"You're going to kill people, aren't you?"

"Only the responsible ones." Peter paused, beady eyes sliding across to me. I'd yet to move from my position in front of Stiles, not wanting to give the wolf even a moment of opportunity to do the kid any damage. An ugly smirk twisted across his lips before he spoke, "I wouldn't think you'd have a problem with that, Stiles. Your little girlfriend here has spilt enough blood to fill a swimming pool three times over in her time."

He blinked and I had him by the lapels of his jacket. He didn't react bar shooting me a wider smirk.

"Look, if I do this," Stiles began shakily, not for a second rising to the alpha's bait. "You have to promise to leave Scott out of it."

He pushed me off of him, and I let it happen, trying to put off the fight for as long as possible. "Do you know why wolves hunt in packs? It's because their favourite prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I need Derek_ and _Scott. I need _both _of them."

"He's not going to help you."

"Oh, he will, because it'll save Allison. And _you _will, because it'll save Scott." Peter's eyes lit up with repulsive mischief, a wolfish grin appearing on his lips. "Or better yet, it'll save your precious Juliet." It was silent for a long moment, before Peter peaked over my shoulder to view the screen, then his expression flattened. "His username is _Allison_?...His password is also Allison?"

If I hadn't been so focused on the wolf's every move, I would have face-palmed.

"Still want him in your pack?" Stiles asked sardonically, glaring at him with hatred. "Wait, what? _That's_ where they're keeping him?" I didn't want to risk taking my eyes from Peter, so I didn't so much as blink, even with his full attention on the screen. "His own house?"

It made sense, a pack as big as the Hales would have a pretty decent cellar under their home, fully equipped to hold werwolves. "Not _at _it. _Under_ it," Peter confirmed my thoughts. "I know exactly where that is."

It was quiet for a beat, before a powerful howl ripped through the town. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and my gums tingled, every instinct in me telling me to run, there was danger nearby.

"And I'm not the only one." He pushed forwards, moving to pack up the laptop. I stepped back, taking Stiles with me. Peter rolled his eyes dramatically. "You can blink, you know," he sneered. "I'm not going to snap." I didn't reply as he threw the computer bag in the backseat of the car. There was another howl, this one a higher pitch, clearly from a different wolf. "Give me your keys," he ordered Stiles sharply.

The kid looked like he was going to protest, but changed his mind at the last second. "Careful, she grinds in second," he warned him with a scowl. He needn't have worried, Peter merely crushed the keys in his hand, giving back the bent bits of metal with a smirk. "So you're not going to kill me?" Stiles asked confusedly, and I crossed my arms tiredly. "Oh God," he muttered regretfully as Peter turned back around, taking a threatening step forwards.

"Don't you understand yet?" he asked, looking over my shoulder at Stiles, ignoring me altogether. "I'm not the bad guy here."

"You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs and _you're_ not the bad guy here?"

It was like a stake to the stomach. I noticeably flinched at his words, finally looking away from Peter, not able to handle his smug smirk. "You've clearly never gotten a good look at the _real_ Juliet," he said as I glared at a squished piece of gum on the asphalt. "I like you, Stiles," he continued. "Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return."

"Do you want the bite?"

My head snapped up, but not fast enough, Peter had already anticipated my move. His hand caught me around the throat for the second time that night and he shoved me against the side of the car, staring at Stiles calmly, awaiting the boy's reply.

The kid was smart enough not to get too worked up, and I didn't fight the hold, letting him keep me there. He was stronger than me. I had to bide my time, wait until he wasn't expecting me to attack, because that was the exact right moment to. "What?" he asked, glancing at me nervously. I tried to shake my head, but when that didn't work I merely screamed through my eyes, trying to get a clear message across.

"Do you want the bite?" Peter repeated like the kid was slow. "If it doesn't kill you, and it could, you'll become like us."

"Like you?"

"Yes. A werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?" he snapped impatiently. Stiles' gaze slipped between he and I, unable to focus, a million thoughts clearly flooding his mind. "That first night in the woods I bit Scott because I needed a new pack. It could have easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side while watching him become stronger and quicker, more popular. Watching him get the girl. You'd be equals. Maybe more."

"Stiles," I choked, and Peter tightened his grip on my windpipe.

"And Juliet," he said, like he was sweetening the deal, a sickening smirk on his face. "I can't imagine how hard it must be for a human like you to keep up with a vampire like her. How hard it must be to be her friend. It's funny, they move so fast without really moving at all. Don't you, Juliet?" he asked, glancing at me, a predatory gleam in his eye. He turned to look back at Stiles, whose heart was by now slamming against his ribcage. "Imagine being able to keep up with her. Imagine being able to spend time with her without her wanting to rip into your neck and feast on your blood. She'll never really care about you as a human, all you'll ever be is weak; a burden. I can give you a chance to be more." He leaned closer, fingers still digging into my throat, free hand taking Stiles' arm and holding it to his mouth. "Yes or no?" he asked the kid finally, flashing his canines.

Before the fangs could touch his skin he ripped it away violently.

"I don't wanna be like you," Stiles spat disgustedly, but both Peter and I could see right through him.

"You know what I heard just then? Your heart beating slightly faster over the words 'I don't want'. You may believe that you're telling me the truth but you are lying to yourself." He finally let go of my throat, and though I didn't really need to breathe to survive I sucked in a deep lungful of air. "Goodbye Stiles," he said courteously, before nodding in my direction. "Juliet."

I growled under my breath in response, but he didn't seem bothered. He slid into the car, peeling out of the garage with a screech. Stiles visibly sagged once he'd disappeared, and I stepped closer in case I needed to catch him if he passed out. He reached out and grasped my shoulder, using me, quite literally, as support. I didn't deny him that, letting him lean on me, acting as an anchor.

"Oh God," he muttered, hand clenching and relaxing over and over where it rested on my shoulder. "Oh God. I think I'm gonna be sick." He began to hyperventilate, heart speeding up in his chest. "And–crap...Lydia," he said, letting go of my shoulder to place both palms flat against his temples, like he was trying to restrain his own thoughts.

I stood there awkwardly. What was I meant to do in this sort of situation? Bar compulsion, there wasn't much I thought I _could_ do, and I sure as hell wasn't stooping to that, not now, not with Stiles.

I stepped forwards, cringing for a split second before placing my hands over his own, pulling them away from his head, curling my fingers through his. "Stiles," I said quietly. "It's going to be okay."

"But-but," he stammered, panicked.

"How far away is the hospital?" I asked over the top of him.

He frowned in confusion, barely keeping up. "A few blocks."

"Come on," I said, letting go of one hand, using the ones still connected to tug him along after me.

"No, you have to follow Peter to the Hale house," he said as I pulled him across to the exit. "You need to be there, to protect Scott-"

"There's no way I'm leaving you alone like this," I replied simply. His hand was sweating in mine, and his heart continued to race. "Come on," I repeated, letting his hand go and turning around, keeping my eyes on him as I walked backwards. "I'll race you."

"W-what?"

"You need to get rid of that adrenaline," I told him, forcing my lips into a small smile that I hoped was in some way comforting. "Besides, we'll get there faster."

"But there's no way I could possibly beat you."

"Not with that attitude."

"You're a _vampire_."

"Way to state the obvious."

I started jogging, and not wanting to be left behind, Stiles rushed to keep up, beginning to pant harder with exertion. I kept my pace painfully slow so I was running by his side. "Why-why didn't you want to...to leave me alone?" he struggled to ask, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his brow. I looked over at him in question. "Well," he continued. "I-I thought you didn't really care."

"That might be true, but it doesn't mean I want you to die," I answered with a shrug, keeping my eyes on the road in front of us.

He was quiet for the remainder of the run, only having to pause twice for a rest before starting up again without prompting. Before long we were in the parking lot of the hospital, slowing down once we saw other people so we didn't draw attention to ourselves. He stopped dead outside the front doors, his flushed face lit up with the glow from the florescent lights inside.

"Stiles?" I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets and watching him wearily.

"What if she's dead?"

I was silent.

What could I say? I didn't care whether the girl lived or died, and to be honest, I'd rather she didn't survive the whole ordeal; one less werewolf to worry about. I couldn't tell him that though, it wouldn't help the situation and I knew I wouldn't like the expression that came with it.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes roughly for a moment before turning around, taking a step towards the hospital.

In a movement I didn't even register he swung back around, all but slamming into me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a warm embrace. My head tucked into his collarbone, I raised my eyebrows, my arms limp as I stood perfectly still.

I might have gotten better at resisting his scent, but having my lips pressed so close to his jugular wasn't helping things at all. So after a long moment of consideration I lifted my own arms, winding my own arms around his neck, pushing myself up onto my toes to take a deep lungful of clean air over his shoulder.

He seemed to take that as some sort of encouragement and clutched me tighter, forehead pressing to my shoulder. I stayed frozen. We were friends, right? And friends hugged friends, or so I'd heard.

Eventually he pulled back, shooting me a watery smile before rubbing at his eyes once more. "Promise me you'll be careful?" I crossed my arms over my chest, forcing myself to ignore the heat I could still feel along the front of my body, and tilted my head at him curiously. "You're going to the Hale house now, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "Well, I have a feeling some serious shit is about to go down. Just, be careful."

I wasn't sure how to respond. I wasn't a very careful sort of person, and I didn't want to make a promise I knew I probably wouldn't keep. So, in the spirit of honesty, I decided it best to just not answer. "Go check on Lydia," I told him, nodding my head towards the automatic doors.

He appraised me for a long moment before sighing, turning around and making a beeline for the entrance. With a deep, steadying breath, I made sure nobody was looking my way before disappearing from under the lights, darting into the trees before anyone had seen me move.

* * *

It took only minutes to get to the Hale house, but once I did, I definitely wasn't met by what I'd been expecting. Derek was on the ground, bleeding from several places on his body, and Scott was writhing in the dirt, hands pressed to his eyes. Two women stood over them, one painfully familiar.

Allison.

And the other must have been the aunt I'd heart so much about.

I mentally rolled up my sleeves as I darted out in front of the boys. Blondie held a gun to Scott's head, and that just wouldn't do. My cover of being a wolf was going to be blown eventually, so I didn't bother hiding my true face as I appeared in front of them, black veins winding across my cheeks, eyes blood red and a set of pearly white fangs slipping into view as I slipped passed them too quick to see, ripping the gun from her manicured hand and throwing it through the trees.

"Well I'll be damned," the blonde one murmured under her breath with almost a giddy smirk as Allison gasped in horror. I merely snarled at the pair, the sound dangerous and feral, from where I was crouched in front of Scott. "Good thing I have a spare," she chirped, pulling another gun out from her waist. "Wanna guess what kind of bullets I have in this one?"

She could be bluffing, that I knew. But was that a risk I really wanted to take?

"Kate!" an approaching voice yelled before either of us could make a move, and the woman and her niece both turned to look at the newcomer. "I know what you did. Put down the gun."

The brother and sister talked between themselves, Kate's gun still aimed at my chest.

"Put the gun down," he warned her again, firing off a bullet into the bark of a tree. "Before I put you down." After a long, tense minute, Kate lowered her gun, glaring venomously at her brother. Before anyone could so much as utter another word, the door to the Hale house behind us creaked open ominously. "Allison, get back," the girl's father snapped in a panic.

"What is it?" the terrified girl asked, scrambling to her feet and backing away from the house.

"It's the alpha," Scott replied, and from the corner of my eye I saw his eyes begin to glow that familiar amber. My hands curled into fists and I shifted my stance into a fighting one, ready to attack at any second as we all stared into the darkness beyond the door.

It burst from the house, circling around us like we were prey. Which, in a way, we were. One by one it picked us off, and I was already drained from the bastard's earlier attacks on me, not to mention I hadn't eaten in far too long. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, a gash stretching from one hip to the other. I grunted in pain as the wound began to burn, but put my pain aside to move closer to Scott, who had collapsed only feet behind me.

"Come on!" Kate shouted into the darkness, but I ignored her, tilting my head as I listened to Scott's heart beat weakly in his chest.

I couldn't take him on alone, so I stayed low, tapping Scott's cheeks as hard as I dared, silently urging him to get up. A shadow flew over my head as Peter threw Kate onto the porch of his burned down house, but I paid no attention, even as Allison yelled out desperately behind us, following her aunt and the alpha into the house.

"Scott," I hissed once, but he barely twitched in response. I huffed angrily, appearing by Derek's side. I didn't need to use such a gentle approach with him, so I slapped him across the face. He sat up, panting and holding his bleeding abdomen in pain. "Can you fight?" I asked him, tuning out the sobbing and muttering going on in the depths of the house behind me. His eyes couldn't seem to focus on me, and I slapped him again. "I said _can you fight_?" I repeated tightly as he finally seemed to refocus. He nodded once, and I moved back over to Scott, who was now just coming to.

The boy stood shakily to his feet, and I glanced down at my slowly-healing wound. It would take longer than regular wounds to heal, seeing as it was from a shifted alpha. I looked back up at the betas. We didn't communicate verbally, instead exchanging nods and hand-signals as we made our way inside. Scott and Derek approached the alpha from either side, while I came up in front of him.

"Run," Scott muttered to his love, who took a step back, jumping violently when she bumped into me, but not hesitating to spin around and run the other way. I took a breath in, hunger flaring in my gut as I smelt the blood of the very recently deceased Kate Argent, barely sparing her corpse a glance as I focused all of my attention on the alpha.

Scott made the first move, taking a swing at Peter. He deflected it with almost amusing ease, landing a hit to the beta's stomach that send him sprawling to the floor. Derek sprang forwards next, and I copied the action. I landed a kick to his side and he threw me away with a lazy flick of his hand. I landed on my feet, sliding across the dusty wood, the floor slick with Kate's blood.

I threw myself forwards with every bit of speed I had, slipping around him and landing three consecutive hits to his back and chest. He sucked in a breath before shoving Derek away carelessly and swiping down to grab me. It was easy enough to stay out of his grip, and we danced like that in between each of the boy's attempts to subdue him. I stayed just out of reach, landing hits when he was distracted then twirling out of his reach when he was focused on me.

I could have kept it up for hours, but it wasn't getting us anywhere. Finally I'd had enough and I came to a stop, thrusting my elbow into his nose as hard as I could. I listened with satisfaction as it cracked, but soon that was overtaken with horror as he turned back to me, face halfway changed. I darted away from him again, flying to Scott's side and helping the kid to his feet as we watched the man fully shift into his werewolf form.

"Scott-" I hissed as the boy leapt forwards, only to be caught around the neck and thrown carelessly through the window. I growled as I watched the alpha smash his way through the glass after him. I rubbed my forehead, pulling my hand away slick with blood. I took a deep breath, rolling my neck and barely sparing Derek a glance before leaping through the gaping hole in the front of the house.

Scott had managed to land a blow to the alpha's chest, sending him flying back into the porch. I took the opportunity, jumping onto to his slimy, hairy, disgusting back and locking my arms around his head. Before I could make the snapping motion that would end his life he thrust me back against the porch steps with enough force that I heard my collarbone crack.

He slid to his feet, satisfied that I was out of the fight for now as he approached a panting Scott. Before he could touch him, two bright headlights shined on the scene. All of our heads snapped to look at the newcomer, and I frowned at the sight of the expensive Porsche and the two boys within it.

Of course, the absolute last person I wanted to be here, was actually here. Stiles climbed from the driver's side, feet barely on the ground before he was tossing what I could identify as a molotov cocktail at the beast. I waited with bated breath to see it explode in flames, but was disappointed to see the alpha catch it like it was a baseball, preventing it from igniting.

"Oh damn..." Stiles breathed from the tree line.

"Allison!" Scott suddenly exclaimed, scrambling forwards and tossing her discarded bow to her. The girl caught it with deft hands, sliding an arrow into place and lining up at shot, not hesitating before taking it. It ruptured the cocktail, and I watched with a satisfied smirk as it exploded in his massive, clawed hand.

Peter burst into flames, roaring loudly as he tried to shake them off. Another cocktail flew from Jackson's hand, this one hitting the other half of his body. I instinctively edged away from the flames, one of the only three things on this earth that could actually kill me.

He howled in agony, teetering a little too close to Argent for Scott's liking, as he dove for the burning beast, only to be kicked away like a can on the sidewalk. He roared again, dropping to his knees as the fire slowly began to die down. His form faded with it, eventually revealing the man under the fur, his skin covered in angry red burns. He collapsed to the ground, heart only just continuing to pump, struggling to hold on.

Everything was silent, the only sound the dying crackling of the fire. I slid to my feet, wincing as my stomach flared with pain. Allison moved over to Scott, and trying not to think of the obvious parallel, I made my way over to Stiles, unable to help myself.

"I thought I told you to be careful," Stiles said quietly, so only the two of us could hear as he eyed the gash and the slit in my dress, the blood making the already red dress even red-er.

"This _was_ me being careful," I replied, placing a hand over the wound.

"I'd hate to see what you look like after a fight where you _weren't_ careful, then," he said, trying to force a smile on his lips. It didn't work, he ended up giving more of a grimace. His expressive brown eyes were shining with worry. "Are you okay?"

I waved his concern off. "Nothing a little O-negative won't fix," I told him, throwing a devious smirk at Jackson as the kid choked on his own spit at my words.

Before anyone could say anything else, footsteps sounded, somebody behind me crunching their way through the dried leaves. I turned around, eyeing Derek, who now stood over his Uncle. I couldn't see the look on his face, but it can't have been pleasant.

"Wait!" Scott yelled as the other beta knelt down, preparing to finish what we'd started. "You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I'm dead. Her father, her family, what am I supposed to do?!"

I rolled my eyes. The kid really did only have a one track mind.

"You've...already...decided..." Peter choked. "I can..._smell it on you_."

Derek held his hand up, preparing to strike even as Scott protested desperately from behind him.

Then it was done.

Peter's heart was beating no more.

"I'm the alpha now."

Derek's eyes slowly faded from their glowing red and he turned around to pick up his uncle's body, disappearing into the house with it. I moved over to Stiles, ready to tell him he should really head home, only to be cut off by a war cry. We all turned around to look at the source of the sound, and a moment later I was shoved against the thick trunk of a tree, a sharp stick imbedded in my gut.

"Juliet!" Stiles yelled, leaping forwards only to be shoved away by papa Argent.

I kept my mask in place, forcing my face into an expression of confusion. "What-"

"Don't you _dare_ play dumb," he growled, grasping the stick and twisting it, making me grunt in pain. "I saw your face, I know what you are, _leech._"

I dropped the act, fangs sliding free as I hissed warningly at him. He didn't so much as flinch.

"Scott? Him, I can leave be," he said, gesturing to Scott. "I can believe he hasn't taken human life. But don't for a _second_ pretend like you haven't!"

"Jules!" Stiles yelled again, and I heard a small tussle as Scott had to hold his best friend back. I would have found it sweet had I not been worried about myself right then.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't shove this stake through your heart."

I didn't have a good answer, and he knew it.

"Dad, no!" Allison screamed from where she stood by Scott, too afraid to come any closer. "Don't hurt her!"

"You don't understand, Allison!" he shouted back, shoving me back harder against the bark when I tried to inch forwards. "You don't know what she is."

"I know she's my friend!"

"She doesn't kill people!"

Argent froze, glancing at Stiles over his shoulder for a brief second.

The kid seemed to sense the opportunity and jumped at it. "You must be monitoring the blood stock at the hospital right? Even if you're not, look into it, you'll see a lot of it having mysteriously disappeared. She doesn't kill to feed."

Argent was silent for a long time. "Is that true?" he asked me seriously, twisting the stick again like it would make sure I was telling the truth. I nodded, even though it hurt to do so. "Do you really expect me to believe you've never killed?"

"No," I spat. "Especially not since it's a lie." He pulled the stick from my stomach and for a brief second I felt relief, then it was shoved back in, a few inches to the right, directly through my kidney if I wasn't mistaken. That was always a bitch to heal. "Stop _doing that_," I snarled with fury, eyes flooding, making them shine a bloody red. "Yes, I've killed before. But I don't anymore. Nobody in this town is in danger from me. So take that stake out before I do something we'll both regret."

"So you're going to threaten me _while _you beg for your life?" he asked with an unamused smirk.

"I'm _not _begging," I spat, having had enough with the charade I reached down and yanked the makeshift stake from my abdomen, throwing the bloodied wood off into the trees and pressing my hands to Argent's chest, sending him stumbling back several feet. He pulled out a gun and shot me twice in the chest, but luckily for me it was just regular bullets. I flinched but otherwise didn't react, merely scowling at the furious hunter. "Put down the weapons and maybe we could have a civil conversation."

He shot me again, three times. Twice in the chest and once in the kneecap.

I grunted, falling to my knees and immediately fishing the bullet from my flesh. "That one stung," I told him with a glare, throwing the bloodstained bullet at him, watching as it hit him in the forehead. In the blink of an eye I had his gun in my hands, the barrel aimed between his eyes. "How'd you like it if I shot _you_, huh?" I asked with a masochistic smile. "Something tells me you won't heal like I will."

"I can't let you live," he said calmly, meeting my eyes bravely. I had to admire him in a way. The man had serious balls. "And if you kill me, it'll just be someone else exactly like me to do the job."

"Juliet," Allison said tearfully from her place beside Scott, who was still holding a struggling Stiles. "Please don't hurt him. _Please_."

I considered it for a while, weighing up the pro's and con's.

When it came down to it, killing this hunter would be taking innocent human life, which was something I just couldn't do.

"Tell you what," I spoke up, slackening my hold on the gun, letting it drop to the ground then kicking it away into the trees. "You stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours."

"And why would I do that?" he asked with a grim look of hatred on his features.

"Because I'm old," I said honestly. "And therefore _very_ difficult for you to kill." I leaned forwards, and he noticeably recoiled, clearly disgusted by me. "And if it somehow does come out that my fangs have gone anywhere near a living, breathing human, then I'll put myself in chains and stay still while you stake me yourself. You have my word."

"That doesn't mean anything coming from you."

"Dad," Allison said again. "Dad, I will _never_ forgive you if you hurt her. She's a good person."

Everything was quiet as he stared at me, I could see the clogs in his mind clicking over as he considered me. "I'll spare you...for now," he finally decided, never taking is eyes from me as he moved backwards towards his daughter. "If you give a human so much as a _scratch..._" he warned.

"Aye aye, captain," I replied, forcing a lazy smirk onto my lips. He grimaced in disgust, hooking an arm around his daughter's neck and none-too-gently tugged her away from the Hale house, ignoring the way she muttered under her breath, pleading to let her stay with us.

Finally Scott let go of Stiles, and the kid scrambled to my side, waving his hands uselessly in front of me, not sure what to do with them. Now that the hunter was out of sight I knew I could once again show weakness, and I sagged, grabbing Stiles' shoulder for support as pain flared across my middle from both the stake and the alpha scratch.

"Whoa," Stiles huffed, tentatively wrapping an arm around my middle, careful not to brush the wounds. "She needs to get home," he said louder to the remaining members of team anti-alpha, Jackson and Scott. "Jackson, can we get a ride home?"

The petty boy looked like he wanted to refuse, but he wasn't _that_ terrible of a person. He nodded and Stiles led me to the car. I pushed him away halfway there, insisting on walking myself. I felt him roll his eyes but didn't feel like commenting, sliding with Stiles into the backseat of his fancy Porsche. I rested my forehead against the cool window as he pulled away from the Hale house, watching the dark forest fly by, not really seeing it.

Finally the alpha was gone, but I felt like with his passing came a whole host of new problems.

Derek was the alpha now, and who knew what his agenda was. Jackson knew what we were, and wanted the same for himself. The hunters now knew I was a vampire, so I'd have to keep my wits about me if I wanted to continue living in the town.

I wondered if it was worth it. Why didn't I just take everyone's advice and move somewhere more vampire-friendly, such as Mystic Falls.

I glanced to my right, catching sight of an exhausted but satisfied looking Stiles, and I knew I had my answer.

**A/N: Last chapter of season one done, now onto season two! Thank you all for your reviews, and for those who wanted to know, I'll be covering all seasons of Teen Wolf, including a fairly long interlude set during the summer at the end of the next season, which will have some _major_ Vampire Diaries crossover elements that I think you'll love.**

**Send me a review and tell me what you think of this one! :)**


	15. Stars

_All those times we looked up at the sky_

_Looking out so far, it felt like we could fly_

_And now I'm all alone in the dark of night_

_And the moon is shining, but I can't see the light._

Stars – Grace Potter

* * *

"I don't wanna know."

Stiles shot out of the seat, blinking his eyes open and searching wildly for the source of the sentence. His gaze fixed on where I sat on the seat beside him, one leg crossed over the other, face clear of emotion. I was thrown back to several weeks ago, when we'd sat in the exact same place, back before I'd considered him a friend. "What?" he asked me innocently, not-so-subtly wiping drool from his lip and straightening his shirt, the balloon tied to his wrist bobbing in the air near his face, bumping him in the nose.

"Please," I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare. "I can smell your arousal."

He grunted indignantly, nose crinkling in my direction. "No using your supernatural abilities to find ways to embarrass me," he said in a way I'm sure he meant to come across as stern. "We've been over this, it isn't fair." I was quiet, staring back at him impassively. "What are you doing here anyway?"

I lifted one shoulder, the soft green wool of my sweater sliding down to reveal my bra strap, though I couldn't be bothered fixing it. I nodded to the ground, where my duffel bag full of blood lay at my feet. "Snack run," I told him, one corner of my lips twitching up into a smirk as he grimaced, rolling his eyes in my direction.

Suddenly a loud grumble broke the calm of the nearly empty waiting room, and we both looked at his stomach accusingly. "Looks like I could go for one of those right about now," he said before frowning in disgust. "A snack run, not a blood bag."

"Thank God you made that distinction, otherwise I would have been so confused," I said scathingly, and he snorted, patting his hungry stomach and frowning at the door to Lydia's room, clearly torn between searching for sustenance and being there for his long-time obsession. I huffed, unable to believe it had gotten to the point where I was considering being _helpful_, digging in my pocket until I pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and some loose change. "Will vending machine food tide you over?"

His face brightened considerably, and he shot me a smile so bright it hurt to look directly at it. I slid to my feet. "Come on," I told him, kicking the duffel full of blood under the seat, making sure it was properly zipped up. "You can pick something."

He untied the balloon from his wrist, attaching it to the armrest of his chair before springing to his feet and following along after me. I moved through the halls, turning the corner and heading for the vending machines. I leant against the wall, watching with minimal curiosity as he yawned loudly, staring at the options behind the glass in front of him.

"Why don't you go home?" I asked, trying not to sound as curious as I felt. "I mean, you being here isn't exactly helping her in any way, you haven't even seen her all weekend."

He winced, continuing to stare at his options like they were the most interesting thing in the room. "I just needed to be here," he said with a shrug. "I'm sure you'd do the same if it was someone you really cared about."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that one. _Was_ there anyone I cared enough about to stay in an uncomfortable hospital chair and sniff the sterile scent of the building all day? No names came to mind.

"Reese's," he said finally, tapping on the glass, leaving a dirty fingerprint behind. I fed the correct money into the machine, gesturing for him to key in the coordinates for his desired treat. He did so with an eager smile, watching in anticipation as the spiral holding back the treat uncurled, before it suddenly stopped, the bar of candy getting stuck before it fell. Stiles' face fell and his shoulders slumped. "Seriously?" he mumbled exasperatedly, violently pressing the button as though it would fix the problem. He turned to me, shooting me a pointed look.

"What do you expect me to do?" I asked with a frown. "Break the glass?" His expression picked up again, a spark lighting up his eyes. "I'm not breaking the glass," I deadpanned, staring at him, entirely unimpressed. He shot me an irritated look, succeeding only in making me roll my eyes. I didn't move, watching as he turned his attention back to the machine. He scowled, bracing himself and grasping either side of it, taking a deep breath and lifting.

Nothing happened except he made a pained noise and the metal creaked. He huffed loudly, stepping back to assess the situation. He looked at me, eyes wide and pleading, "can't you just-"

"But it's just so much more fun to watch you struggle," I chirped, tilting my head to the side and smirking at him teasingly.

"Evil," he muttered bitterly, eyes back on the task at hand. I chuckled under my breath, if not helping him break a vending machine was his biggest problem with me, maybe this whole 'friendship' thing wasn't such a terrible idea. He surged forwards suddenly, grasping the top of the machine and violently shaking it. I cackled loudly as it tipped forwards, Stiles scrambling out of the way, gasping in shock when it fell to the ground, the sound of smashing glass echoing through the halls. Stiles stared at the scene with wide eyes, and I clapped him playfully on the back, giddy from the humour.

"You are one smooth dude, Stiles," I said with the toothy grin that Stiles' had once told me reminded him of the shark from Finding Nemo.

He shot me a look that was a blend between sour and sheepish, opening his mouth to comment when a loud ear piercing scream rang through the hospital. "Lydia?" he said instead, and before he could so much as take a step I was in the injured girl's bathroom, staring at the empty shower and open window with a frown.

Two adults and Stiles ran in to the room an eternity later, and after a silent moment Stiles pulled me aside.

"Where is she?" he asked me, a touch of desperation to his tone as the nurse began ordering for a search of the hospital. I didn't know what to say. What was there to say? I had no idea where she was, and I didn't have the first clue where the mentally damaged girl would wander off to naked in the middle of the night. "Can you track her?" he tried when he seemed to understand that I wasn't going to reply with an answer he'd enjoy.

"Maybe," I allowed with a cautious nod, narrowing my eyes at the window, my keen cat-like eyes slicing through the darkness, looking for any hint of the girl. "You should call Scott though," I admitted reluctantly, keeping my voice low so nobody could overhear. "He's got a stronger sense of smell. Derek would be helpful too."

Stiles scowled at Derek's name. "I'll call Scott," he said, ignoring my other suggestion.

"Okay, make sure you take my bag of blood back to yours, I'll come collect it later. And tell Scott I'll meet him in the woods," I said, spinning around and moving to the open window. I threw one leg over the windowsill, sitting uncomfortably on the cool metal. I glanced back at Stiles, taken aback by the devastated look on his face. I felt like I should say something, but I never was any good at the whole 'comfort' charade. "Stiles," I said before I'd realised I'd made a conscious decision to speak, frowning when his attention snapped to me. Now I _had _to say something. "It's going to be okay," I told him gently, though I didn't really believe my own words.

He looked grateful for my attempt nonetheless, giving me a sad twitch of his lips, turning around and moving from the room. I sighed, staring out into the shadows for a long moment before shaking my head, forcing myself to get my head back in the right space, and launching myself from the room, following what little tracks the girl had left behind.

I slipped through the trees, my feet barely making an imprint on the soft earth. I paused by an old stump of what I'm sure was once a beautiful oak, sniffing the air. I took a sharp turn left, following at top speeds. As I ran, I began to frown. The forests were beginning to look familiar. After a moment I knew why as I pulled to a stop at the mouth of a clearing, the rickety old burnt down remains of the Hale house looming above me in the darkness.

"Lydia?" I called tentatively, tilting my head to the side as I listened for any hint that there was a human (now, potentially a werewolf) in the darkness. There was nothing, not even a heartbeat. I walked around the house twice, looking to see where the tracks led, only to find they ended at the house. With a heavy sigh I slipped through the broken front door, eyeing the charred walls and dangerously splintered stairs.

I stayed perfectly still, waiting for any sign of life. Bar a squirrel in the tree outside and a family of rats out the back, the house was empty.

"She came here?" Stiles asked loudly as they approached. "Are you sure?"

"This is where the scent leads," the teen wolf responded with a shrug as I slid from the house, appearing on the blackened porch.

"Took you long enough," I said loudly, leaning my weight against the railing, grimacing when it creaked. Allison looked surprised to see me there, the boys obviously hadn't filled her in. I lifted a hand, wiggling my fingers at her in greeting. I heard her heartbeat pick up before she took a deep, calming breath, her heart rate slowing and a small, peaceful smile rested on her lips.

"Alright, now that we're all present and up to date," Stiles said sharply, and I got the feeling he didn't want to be wasting any time with pleasantries. "Does anyone know if Lydia has ever been here before?"

"Not with me," Allison said, shaking her head, pulling her coat tighter around her as Scott shook his head in the negative.

Stiles moved forwards, heading closer to me as Scott and his girlfriend hung back to whisper between themselves. "So this is where the trail ends?" he asked quietly, knowing I could hear him. I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and moved down the unstable looking porch stairs, my boots crunching the leaves fallen from the trees. I headed towards him, nodding once I was close enough to him that he could see it. "And she's definitely not in the house?"

"Nope," I told him, coming to a stop beside him.

"Do you think she's turning?" he asked tentatively after a beat, awkwardly balling his fists and shoving them in his own pockets, mirroring my stance.

"I think you either turn or you die," I said, my voice steely. "And she isn't dead yet."

"So there's no other outcome?" he questioned, desperate for an answer I wasn't sure I could give. "No other way this could turn out?"

I opened my mouth to say no, I was really close to it too, but something flitted across my mind. Years and years ago, a century even, I'd come across someone who hadn't turned after being bitten, and who hadn't died either. But that couldn't be what was happening here, because that person was a-

"Hey, look at this," he exclaimed suddenly, kneeling down to the muddy ground as he caught sight of a long, thin wire spread across two trees. "I think it's a trip wire," he said, completely distracted from our previous conversation. He touched it gently, considering it for a moment before yanking it upwards. There was a yelp behind me and I spun around, chortling at the sight of Scott strung upside down from a rope.

"Stiles?" he said cooly as I chuckled to myself.

"Yeah buddy?" his best friend asked, turning around, stopping short at the sight that he was met with.

"Next time you see a trip wire, don't trip it," Scott told him sternly, swinging softly from side to side. Allison giggled, covering her mouth with her gloved hand, watching her boyfriend fondly.

"Noted."

They both smiled, and it was a brief, peaceful moment before the loud crunch of dried leaves met my sensitive ears. "Wait," I hissed, stepping closer to Scott. The other two could get away, Scott was stuck there for now, unable to defend himself. I figured that was the priority. "Someone's coming."

"Hide," Scott urged them quietly, waving them away. "_Go_," he prompted when they didn't move.

Allison scrambled away, moving off into the shadows. Stiles made a grab at my wrist, trying to pull me with him. "Stiles," I snapped softly, dropping his hand and giving him a gentle shove in the direction Allison had gone. He shot me a reluctant look but did as he was told. I positioned myself in front of a vulnerable Scott, facing the approaching hunters.

They moved from the darkness, boots squeaking lightly, about as stealthy as humans got. Argent walked forwards, cool stare on his handsome face as he regarded me carefully before turning his attention to Scott.

"Scott," he said cordially, not even bothering to greet me. I wasn't surprised; to hunters, vampires were even lower on the totem pole than werewolves.

"Mr Argent," the boy responded with an awkward nod.

"How are you going?"

"Good, just..." he trailed off, glancing at where the rope held him by the ankle, dangling him from the branch of a large tree. "Is this one of yours? It's ah, it's a good design, very constricting."

I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to face palm at the small talk. "What are you doing out here Scott?" he asked bluntly.

"We're looking for Lydia," I supplied, and he looked at me sharply, loathing overflowing in his expression.

"That's right," he said, glancing at the forest floor contemplatively before looking back at Scott, apparently deciding I wasn't worth speaking to. "Lydia's in your group now, isn't she?" He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the wolf. "Clique, is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it...part of your pack?" Argent's frown deepened and he turned to look at me, a disgusted glare on his face. "Or maybe the right word is...coven."

I snorted loudly, a gesture he definitely didn't appreciate. "Vampire jokes," I chirped with a smirk, wagging my eyebrows at him. "Classy."

"Actually clique sounds about right to me," Scott said, attempting to defuse the tension.

"I hope so. Because I know she's a friend of Allison's and one or two special circumstances like yourselves? That I can handle," he told us, face stony and voice grave. "But not another." He looked up at me, clearly wishing he could shove a stake through my heart right then and there. "Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?" he asked conversationally, apparently changing tactics. I shifted slightly in front of Scott, an action the hunter didn't miss.

"I have a feeling I don't want to," the teen wolf muttered from where he hung.

"It's the medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half. It takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone and fat," he paused, eyes narrowing into slits. "Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

He stood to his feet, attention slipping from the wolf to me.

"I'd make a threat, but I think you already get the gist of what I'm going to say," he said, tilting his head, examining me closely.

"Let me guess," I began, crossing my arms over my chest and smirking at him carelessly. "It involves either pointy wooden sticks, decapitation, or maybe even fire if you wanna get really creative." He continued to stare at me, his hard expression not breaking for even a second. "I've been at this a lot longer than you, little boy," I warned him, starting off light, but soon trailing off into darker, more dangerous tones.

"Well, as long as you keep your fangs out of people's necks, I don't see us having to battle it out to really see who would really win in a fight to the death."

I stepped closer to him, and the men behind him shifted, their hands darting to their waists where there was no doubt weapons concealed. "Don't think you are in any way protected just because you're Allison's father," I told him quietly, making sure that Allison (who I had no doubt was doing her best to listen in) wouldn't overhear.

"Keep making threats like that and you might just wake up dead," he said, voice just as dark.

I chortled, an amused smirk spreading across my lips, "I'm already dead." He grimaced like he was disgusted I had reminded him. A hand grabbed mine and tugged, I knew without looking it was Scott, warning me to play this smart. "It was nice chatting with you Chris," I said pleasantly, fluttering my eyelashes and forcing my lips to turn up at the corners.

He didn't rise to my bait, merely glaring at me hostilely for a long moment before turning around, and leisurely making his way back into the shadows, his minions following close at his heels. Everything was still for a beat before the sound of hurried footsteps made their way to where we stood. "You okay?" Allison asked us worriedly, though focusing mostly on her boy toy.

"Just another life threatening conversation with your dad," he answered, aiming for funny but definitely falling short.

"Stiles, help me with this," she said, jogging over to where the rope was pulled taught by his weight.

"Thanks," Scott said, cutting the wire with his claw, landing on solid ground not a moment later. "But I think I got it."

"Come on," Stiles said with a weak laugh. "Another sweep of the house won't hurt."

We all nodded, following him up the small hill the Hale house sat on.

* * *

I smirked amusedly as Stiles got himself in trouble with Harris, chuckling under my breath as I discretely carved a pentagram into the wood of the desk I was sitting at. "Jackson," a voice behind me said, and I looked up as I heard the boy's heart rate skyrocket. What I saw floored me. Black was dripping from the asshole's nose, but I knew it wasn't blood. I knew what it really was, and that wasn't anything good. I pulled my phone from my pocket, unlocking it under the desk and typing out a quick, concise text to everyone's favourite alpha.

I stopped worrying after I heard Derek talking with Jackson in the bathroom down the hall, ignoring Stiles' urgent whispers wondering what the hell was going on.

I stayed behind after school, reading in the library for a lack of anything better to do. I was just on my way through to the front doors when I heard Stiles arguing with Harris about leaving detention on time. I weighed my options, ultimately deciding that getting Stiles out of the situation he was in was something a friend would do. So I sighed, grabbing the handle and twisting it, sliding into the room. "Ms Cooper," Harris greeted me coldly, barely looking up from the papers he was grading. "How can I help you?"

Stiles perked up hopefully at the sight of me, practically screaming at me with his eyes to get him the hell out of there. "Stiles is leaving now," I said simply, my features schooled. Harris paused, his pen hovering in the air as he turned to look at me, one sharp brow raised.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"I said," I began, placing one hand on his desk, the other on the back of his chair so I could lean in, catching his cold, beady eyes with my own. "Stiles is leaving now." There was a beat as I held his gaze, before I blinked and broke my hold over him. "Come on," I said to Stiles, pushing myself back up into a standing position and looking at the boy who appeared downright giddy. He all but leapt from his seat, bouncing to his feet and scurrying over to me.

"You're literally a life saver," he said as I led him from the room. "Which is ironic, considering you're a v-"

"Yeah, I see the irony," I said, cutting him off, rolling my eyes and turning down a hallway to the right, heading for the front door.

"Are you going to Kate's funeral?" he asked conversationally as I pushed open the heavy doors, stepping out into the overcast day before making a beeline for the pavement, intent on getting home, having some dinner and watching shitty sci-fi movies until I fell asleep.

"Re-assess that statement Stilinski," I told him, glancing at him over my shoulder as he walked with me. "Why the hell would I go to that bitch's funeral? Last I knew, you don't go to people's funerals if you wanted them dead. You only go if you're actually mourning."

He was quiet for a second, contemplating my words. "Scott and I will be there for Allison," he said as he shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder. "I thought you might be too."

"Nope," I responded guiltlessly, tugging my coat closer around me, though it had little to do with the temperature.

"Well it's at the cemetery if you change your mind," he told me, something like hope in his eyes.

"That's generally where funerals are held, yeah," I said, pausing on the pavement next to his jeep. He chuckled lightly, fiddling with his keys.

"Want a ride home? It's on my way," he said with forced casualness.

I pondered the option for a moment before shaking my head. "Nah," I said, "I was gonna take a detour home through the woods; see if I can catch Lydia's scent or something." He smiled, but this time it wasn't amused or sarcastic, it was purely...happy. It rattled me. "What?" I asked self-consciously, my brows pulling together as I glanced down at my purple top and trench coat, wondering if I'd spilt something on myself.

"You just-you like to put on this act that you don't care," he explained with that stupid smile, and before he'd even finished the sentence I'd tensed up. "But you care a lot, underneath the punk rock getup and nasty attitude."

I pursed my lips, fixing him with a sharp look. "Okay Doctor Phil," I said harshly, tone leaving no room for interpretation. "Are we done?"

"We're done," he confirmed with a nod, that grin of his just refusing to fade. I opened my mouth to say something but he beat me to the punch. "Call you if we need anything?"

"What?"

"That's what you usually say," he replied, grinning toothily. "'Call if you need anything'," he said again, voice light. "That's how you say goodbye."

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if I was just imagining the fond tone he spoke with. "I'm leaving now," I said flatly, shooting him an unimpressed look. It did nothing to dampen his spirits.

"Talk later," he said, unlocking his Jeep and climbing into the drivers seat. I shoved down the urge to look back over my shoulder as he drove passed me, taking a sharp left into the line of trees that marked the start of the woods.

* * *

I had almost finished an old B-grade science fiction flick I'd picked up when I got the call. "Route 5 and post," said the familiar voice on the other end. I'd been at this for long enough to know to stop asking questions, particularly when Stiles was involved.

"Be there in five," I said in reply before hanging up and pulling an old college sweater over my tank top, slipping my feet into a pair of boots and leaving the house. It didn't take long to run there, especially since I'd had my fill of A-positive only an hour before.

I came to a stop at the edge of the forest, staring at the ambulance interior covered in human blood where it sat on the edge of the deserted road. I knew this was the boys' most recent lead on Lydia, but something about the whole thing didn't add up, not to mention I couldn't catch a hint of her scent anywhere on the vehicle. I didn't have to wait long for the boys to show up, hearing them stomping their way through the forest floor to the left of the ambulance. "What the hell is Lydia doing?" Stiles asked, clearly disgusted as I silently approached them from behind.

"I have no idea," Scott replied, glancing at me over his shoulder, the only one of the pair able to hear me approach.

"Took you boys long enough," I said offhandedly, for the second time in two days, crossing my arms and leaning against a tree beside me.

Stiles jumped violently, yelping loudly and spinning around, hand pressed to his heart. "Well not all of us can run at the speed of light," he replied scathingly, once he'd regained control of his vocal chords.

I frowned, wondering if he was serious. "I don't run at the speed of-"

"Maybe we could focus on the task at hand?" Scott interjected exasperatedly, moving our attention back to the conversation.

"Right," Stiles said, nodding to himself and looking back at the bloody vehicle. "So what kept you from doing that? Was it Allison?" he asked, squinting at the body laying in the back.

"I hope so."

"Do you need get closer?"

"No, I got it," Scott told him after a beat, shifting back to try and catch the scent.

"Just..." Stiles began, grabbing his best friend's arm, stopping him from moving any further. "I just need you to find her," he said seriously, focus on the wolf as I watched on with only a vague interest. "Alright? Please just-just find her."

"I will," Scott vowed. He slid to his feet, turning to look at me intently, clearly awaiting my input.

"The scent leads west," I told him, though I was sure he already knew. "It doesn't smell right though, so be careful."

"You're not coming?" he asked with a frown.

"Natural instinct to a werewolf is to run away from a vampire. The last thing we want is her getting spooked. I'll wait here in case she comes back."

"Right," he nodded, seeing sense in my argument. He looked back at his friend, patting his shoulder reassuringly before taking a sharp left and disappearing into the shadows.

"Did you get a look at what she did to the body?" Stiles asked me after a moment.

"No," I said with a shrug. "Didn't think it was important." He shot me an exasperated look, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I grumbled, forcing myself to sound more irritated than I felt. I reached out and grabbed his hand, using it to pull him along. A tense croak left his lips, but I ignored it, dragging him through the trees towards the flashing lights of the ambulance. "Keep a look out," I hissed to him, letting go of his hand when we pulled up beside the broken doors. I glanced around the side of the vehicle where three officers and two paramedics stood talking in low tones.

I grabbed the handle, pulling myself up into the back of the ambulance with ease. The smell of the blood hit me like a truck and I grit my teeth to counter the urge to let my fangs slide free. I stepped closer to the pale body laying on the gurney, picking up the sheet covering its wounds and sliding it across so I could see everything. "Quickly," Stiles hissed from behind me as I stared stonily at the scene before me. "What?" he asked when I didn't respond, sounding closer than before. "What is it?"

"Don't look, Stiles," I told him, peering at the torn open flesh and exposed insides.

"Why not?" he questioned, his pout audible in his voice.

"Uh, so you ever get another hour of sleep in your life?" I said sarcastically, assessing it one final time before letting the sheet drop, covering the gruesome mess. I spun around, stepping off the edge of the back of the vehicle, dropping gently to the dirt road.

"So, what'd it tell you?" Stiles asked eagerly, keeping his voice low.

"Whoever did this was desperate, and not at all experienced."

"So it _was _Lydia?"

"Well-" I was cut off by a pair of high beam headlights shining in our faces, the sound of an engine cutting off, a door opening, and footsteps on the gravel making their way to us. Dread spread across Stiles' face before the Sheriff was even by our side, but he quickly schooled his features, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Dad," he said brightly, patting his father on the shoulder. "What a coincidence; seeing you here."

"Stiles," he replied carefully, stern glare sliding from him to me. "Juliet."

"Evening Sheriff," I greeted him with a respectful nod.

"Do I want to know what the hell either of you are doing here?" he asked with a deep frown.

I pursed my lips and glanced to Stiles, who looked back at me, desperation clearly painted across his features. I widened my eyes and shrugged my shoulders minutely, conveying that I had no idea what the hell he was supposed to say. He blinked twice, then turned back to face his father. "We were making out."

I frowned, cocking my head to the side and watching him carefully, wondering exactly what the hell he thought he was doing.

"Yeah," he nodded to himself, overflowing with false confidence. "Yeah, we were making out in the woods and we heard the sirens and we-"

"Stiles," his dad deadpanned, levelling the boy with a serious look. "Don't expect me to believe you were doing _that _with_ her_."

"I could," he cried indignantly, frowning up at him. My lips pursed, wondering if that was a dig at his son or me.

"Look, the fact of the matter is you've shown up at a crime scene, _again. _Think about how that looks."

I edged further away from the small family, crossing my arms as though I was cold and looking away awkwardly. They continued to talk in hushed tones, the Sheriff saying something about being elected to his job and not wanting his son to jeopardise that. The wind hit my face, bringing with it the sour smell I'd come to associate with my least favourite red head.

I spun around, narrowing my eyes as I looked through the dark. I quickly caught sight of the figure in the bushes, shivering as she halfheartedly covered her exposed chest.

"Gentlemen?" I said loudly, catching the officer and his son's attention.

The muttering behind me died off, and Stiles' heart rate went off the charts as he spotted his long time obsession now standing in the glow of the headlights, his chin practically on the ground.

"Well?" Lydia asked loudly, throwing her arms up in something like annoyance, only serving to further expose her body to the gathered crowd. "Isn't anybody going to get me a coat?"

I glanced over my shoulder as Stiles tripped over himself in his eagerness to help the dirt-covered naked girl. The Sheriff rolled his eyes, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to me, gesturing for me to approach her. I couldn't be bothered arguing, something telling me it would be insensitive to do so; she was a naked girl surrounded by men, I was supposed to be sympathetic.

I took the item of clothing, walking at a human pace over to the girl, standing in front of her, blocking a still gaping Stiles' view.

"Are you okay?" I asked tonelessly, more of a formality than anything. She was shaking like a leaf, tears in her eyes as she responded with a shake of the head. I held out the coat for her, and she slipped her trembling arms into the sleeves, letting me pull it up over her shoulders. She stepped back and attempted to zip it up, but found she couldn't make her shaking hands cooperate.

I held back an irritated sigh, stepping closer and hooking the zip into place for her, dragging it up so it covered her chest. She sagged, probably weary from all the running through the woods. I didn't want her to fall on her face or anything, so I grabbed her arm gently, thankful she couldn't feel the temperature through the material of the thick officer jacket.

The paramedics from the attacked ambulance were there to help, pulling out their equipment and setting to work checking her vitals and whatnot.

I let her go, moving back beside Stiles, who was staring at the girl with a worried look on his face.

"Is she..." he began, stopping before he could finish. "I mean, does she smell like...?"

"I don't think she turned," I said, getting the gist of what he was trying to say. "She smells the same as she did before, and I can't sense the wolf in her like I can others."

"But you either turn or you die," he responded confusedly in a hushed whisper. "How could she not have done either?"

"I don't know," I answered with a frown. "But I'm sure as hell going to find out."


	16. Last Hope

_It's just a spark_

_But it's enough to keep me going_

_And when it's dark out, no one's around_

_It keeps glowing_

Last Hope – Paramore

* * *

"I need the english homework."

I looked up from my old paperback, raising an apathetic eyebrow at Allison. "Then you probably should have done it," I told her bluntly, turning back to the words on the page.

"Come on," she said lightly, slipping down so she was sitting beside me, back pressed up against the lockers. "Help a girl out."

"I'd love to," I told her sarcastically. "But I didn't do the homework either."

"How could you _not_ have done the homework?"

"Said the pot to the kettle..."

She giggled, rolling her eyes and bumping my shoulder like it hadn't been a scathing remark but some kind of askew compliment. "I was thinking," she said quietly after a moment, looking at her nails absentmindedly. "I should come over to your house on Friday night."

I glanced back up at her. "I don't even know where to begin with what a terrible idea that is."

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently.

"Should I start with the fact you want to have a slumber party with a vampire or the fact that your parents are hunters and would kill you for coming within even twenty feet of me?" I asked sardonically, and she rolled her eyes at me.

"I have it all planned out," she began, turning so she was facing me directly, waving her hands enthusiastically as she talked. "I'll tell them I'm going over to Lydia's for the night, that I need a night of normal away from all the..." she trailed off, having difficulty coming up with the right phrasing. "They won't suspect a thing."

"I've been around a while," I told her seriously. "I might not think much of hunters, but even I know not to underestimate them."

"Come on," she said again, nudging me encouragingly.

"Why do you want to do it in the first place?" I asked in confusion.

She paused, looking at me like I was an idiot. "Uh, because we're friends and that's what friends do?"

That was news to me, but I didn't argue her on it, taking it in my stride and not letting it show that it got to me. "Do I have a choice?" I asked, hoping I sounded more careless than I felt.

She grinned, so apparently I'd said the right thing. "Nope," she beamed, glancing at the ceiling as the bell rang through the halls. "I've got to get to history," she told me, gathering her things and pushing herself to her feet. "I'll see you later?"

"You'll see me Friday, apparently," I retorted, causing her to smile happily. She walked past me, patting my head as she did. I didn't appreciate the gesture, it made me feel like a dog or a toddler, but I kept my complaints to myself, merely watching as she walked away, a hop in her step.

I sighed, shook my head and looked back down at my book, thankful the halls were beginning to empty, leaving me alone in the corridor. I'd only gotten halfway down the page when another familiar voice called out my name.

I looked up, peering at Stiles through narrowed, unhappy eyes. "What do you want?" I asked moodily, my tone not affecting him in the least, as per usual.

"We have a _serious _problem."

He came to a clumsy stop in front of me, twisting his hands together in front of him anxiously. I frowned as I listened to his heart pound, slipping the bookmark back into place and pushing myself up so I stood opposite him, leaving my bag at my feet. "What?" I asked hesitantly, already wishing the day was over so I could curl up in front of the fire and drink some hard liquor.

"There's another beta," he divulged, eyes flashing around like he was worried somebody was going to leap out of a locker.

"Another beta?" I repeated slowly, trying to comprehend what he was telling me. "In town?"

"In school," he corrected with a gulp.

I it down on my tongue, lips pursing as I digested the information. "Do you know who it is?" I asked carefully, wondering how I could have missed it.

"Yeah," he nodded, but then didn't proceed to immediately tell me who it was. I tilted my head at him, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. He looked reluctant to do so, only serving to make me more suspicious. My expression hardened into a glare and his heart rate picked up again at the unspoken threat I knew I would never actually act on. "It's Isaac Lahey."

I was silent for a moment, processing his words. "Isaac Lahey," I repeated tonelessly, staring at him as though waiting for him to burst into laughter. "As in, my _formal_ date, Isaac Lahey?" I asked a meek Stiles incredulously. He nodded affirmatively, licking his lips as he watched my reaction. I ran a hand through my loose raven hair, pushing it off my face.

This meant Derek was forming a pack. I don't know why I hadn't expected him to, it was the next logical step for the shiny new alpha.

"That's not all," Stiles continued. Dread wormed it's way into my guy and I frowned, gritting my teeth as I prepared for another blow. "His dad was murdered and the police think he's a suspect. They've got him in a holding cell for the night."

"But tonight's the-"

"Full moon, I know." He sighed, rubbing his fingers over the bridge of his nose, "we'll work it out. He won't be in there much longer. Scott will figure it out." He crossed his arms to keep his fingers from tapping. I got the feeling he'd taken a boat load of focus meds that morning. "Look, I've gotta get to geography," he told me. "I'll call you when I know more."

With a final nod he spun around, hurrying down the hall to get to the class he was already late for. I rolled my eyes, feeling the vampire equivalent of a headache coming on.

* * *

"Juliet Cooper to the Principle's Office!" the grating voice over the loud speaker called and I groaned out loud, rolling my head back until it hit the wall of the toilet cubicle I was holed up in. I took another drag from my cigarette and picked up my bag, throwing open the door with one hand and holding the smoke in the other.

Just as I was finishing it off a girl stormed into the bathroom with a frown. Her dark look intensified as she spotted me with the smoke and the clacking of her high-heels stopped as she paused. "What do you think you're doing?" she snapped, her perfectly painted lips pulling downwards disapprovingly. "You can't do that in here. I'll report you."

"Don't bother," I sighed, glancing down at myself in the mirror. "I'm on my way to the Principle right now."

I stalked out of the restroom before she could comment, dropping the smoke and stepping on it carelessly on my way. I was lead inside by the secretary as soon as I was within sight, and I wondered what I'd done to warrant such an immediate response.

I stepped inside the dull little office, looking around distastefully. I missed the 70's, at least back then people _tried_. "Yes?" I asked, contemplating my chances of leaving in under two minutes and skipping the rest of class to smoke and watch old films.

"Miss Cooper, take a seat," the older man in the largest chair said with a smile that reminded me vaguely of a piranha. I fell into the dark blue chair opposite him and stared blankly, awaiting whatever stern warning he was most likely going to give me. I probably shouldn't have smuggled whiskey into that one Biology class, but I'd been having a rough week. "Miss Cooper, seeing as I'm new to this position I've been doing some research on students of interest, one of which you happen to be, and I have to say I found something quite interesting. Or rather, it was what I _didn't_ find that caught my eye."

I pursed my lips, deciding the best way to respond was with ignorance. Whoever this guy was, I didn't like him. "I don't understand."

"Well, miss Cooper, I'm afraid all of your documentation seems to be missing. There's no transcripts, no birth certificate, not even a copy of your previous results on the database," he told me seriously, his beady little eyes flickering over my features, looking for any hole in my perfect mask. "So I used the other resources at my disposal to find what I needed and I have to say, I think I found what I needed."

I let a curious smile overtake my features, it was only half-faked. I had to admit I was curious as to what this tiny little insignificant human thought he knew about me, so I let him rant. "And what was that?" I asked condescendingly.

"Miss Cooper, have you ever been to London?"

I felt my core body temperature drop as my entire being froze. I had been expecting a newspaper article reference to another Juliet Cooper, or an old picture, maybe results from my time at Harvard. I wasn't expecting him to get so close to what I had hidden. "Can't say that I have," I shrugged nonchalantly, letting my eyes survey the room casually, really checking exits and weaponry distance.

"Now, there's no need to lie about it Miss Cooper."

I cursed myself for my negative physical reaction to my real name: my straightened spine and darkened eyes. I levelled my gaze at him, calming myself enough to drag him in. "What do you know?"

"I would ask," he began smugly and I blinked in shock. It hadn't worked. Why the bloody hell hadn't it worked? "That you refer to me as Sir."

I continued to watch him, listening to his heart for any stutters, looking for a tell that he was bluffing or lying. The only explanation I had was vervain, but I knew the only source lay with the Argents, so I had to wonder how he not only knew what it was but he knew what it did and how to use it correctly. My eyes flickered to the name plate I had previously ignored, part of me surprised to see he was indeed an Argent.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, and I could see the unspoken dare clear as day; take the tea and prove I was human, or deny and all but prove myself guilty of vampirism. I chose impulsively, my own anger and stubbornness driving my stupidity.

"I think I might be allergic," I smiled condescendingly at him once again, raising my eyebrows in challenge. He looked torn between experiencing terror, rage and glee.

He stared at me silently, probably sizing me up, wondering what kind of threat I was and contemplating my knowledge of the local pack. The fact that werewolves and vampires were usually enemies worked in my favour, there was no way he would suspect we were working together, much less that I was friends with any of them. I waited for him to make the first move after my confession, considering what he might say. "Maybe I should ring your parents."

"I'm emancipated," I told him cooly.

"Oh really?" he asked with an ugly smirk. "How long ago did you leave your family?"

There wasn't any use in lying or playing it safe. He knew exactly what I was so what was the point in continuing on carefully? "Oh, it feels like centuries ago now," I responded, sending him a toothy grin.

"I see," he muttered resentfully, and I tried to contain my pleasure at his frown.

The old standard ringtone from my phone went off, and I pulled it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen. "I have to take this," I told Argent, pushing myself to my feet. "I assume you got everything you wanted?"

"And more, Miss Cooper," he replied with a creepy smile.

I didn't bother with a goodbye, arching a challenging eyebrow at him before spinning around, slipping from the room and stalking passed the secretary without a glance.

"What?" I answered the call with a snap, stepping out into the hallway and glaring at the far wall.

"_You have to go to the station and keep an eye on Isaac_."

"I don't _have _to do anything."

Derek sighed down the line, and I could hear the frustration in the sound. "_Would you just do it? If not for me, then at least for him_."

I narrowed my eyes at a suspicious stain on the wall, shifting my weight from foot to foot. "Why would that make me any more inclined to do it?"

"_Come on, Juliet_," he snapped, and I heard the sound of his car revving in the background. "_I know you two are friends_."

"Acquaintances," I corrected. "And just barely."

"Look, you don't kill, there must be reason for that," he said. "And if you're not there to protect him, he could _die_. Something tells me you don't want his blood on your hands."

My expression hardened and I grit my teeth, biting back a scathing retort. Deciding there was no way to reply without starting an argument, I simply ended the call, trying not to let my fist clench tight enough to crack the phone in it's grip.

* * *

"Took you long enough," I drawled, crushing the butt of my latest cigarette under the heel of my boot. Derek curled his lip at me, clearing not wanting to get into it with me, but also not having a choice. Stiles tripped out of the driver's side, staggering across to meet us on the footpath in front of the police station.

"Has anything happened?" Derek asked coldly.

"They questioned him once, but he mostly stayed quiet so they left him in the holding cell," I told him just as cooly. He nodded, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight, sticking his chin up in the air and strolling passed me into the building.

"There's a hunter on his way, he's going to test Isaac with wolfsbane, and if he fails the test, which we know he will...well, I'm sure you can imagine what they'll do then," Stiles told me in a hushed whisper. I nodded and spun around, silently making my way up the stairs leading to the front door. Stiles followed me noisily.

I held out a hand as we came to the door, pressing back against it, head tilting naturally as I listened in on the pathetic conversation happening behind it. I thought the alpha wolf was a blubbering mess, but something about what he was doing seemed to work, as the female officer's heart was pumping off the charts.

I waved Stiles through, and he hurriedly stepped out into the open. The officer didn't give him so much as a glance, all of her attention on Derek.

I rolled my eyes as Stiles stumbled through the room, all but diving back behind cover the second he was able. I slid out, my footsteps not making so much as a creak as I calmly walked through, meeting a sweating Stiles at the door to his father's office.

"You go make sure Isaac's safe," he told me as he jiggled the handle, nodding when it clicked open without resistance. "I'll meet you there."

I didn't reply, spinning around and following the scent of wet dog.

I ran there, passing a bleeding man on the way. I figured it was best for everyone involved if I didn't stop to assess that situation. I grit my teeth against the bloodlust, shooting through the halls until I ended up in the room with the holding cells. Isaac was groaning in pain from within the centre one, and I tiptoed up to the door, peering through the window at his shaking form.

"Isaac."

His head snapped up, fangs descended and eyes glowing amber.

"Isaac," I repeated gently. "It's okay."

He sniffed the air, and I realised a second too late what had happened; he'd caught wind of my scent. Nothing riled up a new teen wolf like the deathly stench of a vampire. He leapt forwards, a snarl ripping from his lips as he threw himself against the metal door. It banged loudly but didn't budge, which was lucky because I wasn't in the mood to kick his ass.

Unfortunately, luck wasn't on my side.

Two more throws of his weight against the metal and it ripped off its hinges, cracking open with a mighty bang.

With an irritated sigh I jumped back, away from any possible bodily harm. Isaac growled at me, lunging for me once again. I kicked out my leg, landing a blow on his side, sending him sailing back into the wall. He was winded momentarily, resting against the bricks as he caught his breath.

He stood straight, hunching over as he prepared to attack. With a huff I copied the action, allowing my fangs to slide free of my gums. Before either of us could make a move, the bleeding man from before hobbled into the room, coming to a stop between us, dragging a struggling Stiles at his feet. They both paused, peering at the broken door in confusion.

Isaac attacked.

With a roar he launched himself at the man who was obviously a hunter. I wasn't about to get between that, so I stepped back, watching him slam into the older man, throwing him against the wall. In the blink of an eye I was beside Stiles. I grabbed a handful of his shirt, tugging him back away from the fight, the last thing I wanted was for him to become a casualty of a hunter/wolf fight.

"Jules-" Stiles exclaimed as I shoved him against the wall, making sure he was well and truly out of the way. I ignored him, rushing forwards and grabbing Isaac's arm just as he thrust it into the hunter's face, sending the injured man crashing to the floor.

Isaac spun around, snarling at me. I curled my own lip back, flashing my fangs as my eyes became a blood red. I landed another kick to his abdomen, the punched him in the nose. He flinched back but recovered quickly, landing a punch of his own to my throat. Luckily I didn't need air to breathe, so I fought off the winded feeling I got, shoving my elbow into his face. I kicked him once in the gut then backhanded him once more across the cheek, his lip busting open, blood pouring down his chin.

Before I could land another blow there was a ferocious growl from behind me.

We both stopped, spinning around to look at the source of the noise.

Derek stood in the middle of the room, eyes glowing a brilliant red, canines exposed. He glared at Isaac, who immediately started whimpering, ducking into a corner and curling into a ball.

"How did you do that?" Stiles said, and I stiffened, immediately sealing my lips shut as my fangs slid back into their hiding place, the blood draining from my eyes.

"I'm the alpha."

I shot Derek a sour look, but he couldn't have cared less.

"We have to get him to safety," he continued, looking at me pointedly. "Before any more cops show up."

I leaned down, tugging Isaac to his feet, slinging his arm around my neck and wrapping my own around his waist. He sure was staunch. He recoiled as he took in my scent, but I ignored it, pulling him towards the door. I paused in the doorway, looking back at Stiles with a frown. "I'll be fine," he said instantly, knowing what I meant without me needing to tell him. "Go. Quickly."

I nodded, lifting Isaac up slightly before tugging him from the room as Derek led the way.

* * *

"Did your dad give you much trouble?"

Stiles jumped violently, squeaking like a chipmunk and grasping his chest, spinning around to frown at me from his place perched at his desk. I grinned back crookedly, crossing my arms and leaning against the windowsill, one leg dangling over onto his roof, the other curled under me as I peered at him, waiting for an answer.

"We should get you a bell," he responded dryly, leaning back in his seat, his face illuminated by the glow of the computer screen and the small lamp on his night stand. I merely raised an eyebrow at him, awaiting an answer to my question. "He was pretty pissed, but he'll get over it," he told me lightly.

"Why don't you just tell him?" I asked curiously. And it was a fair enough question. So many of his problems would go away if he just came clean to his father, he wouldn't have to lie to the man every day.

He lifted one shoulder, letting it drop sadly. "To protect him, I guess."

I wasn't sure I understood, but I stayed silent, eyes drifting over the different posters on his wall.

"Can I see your face?"

I looked up, forcing a smirk onto my lips. "You're looking at it, sunshine," I chimed, and he grinned for a moment before turning serious again.

He crept forwards, using his feet to drag his wheeled chair closer to the windowsill I was perched on. He finally came to a stop in front of me, peering up at me with those large coffee eyes. "I want to see it," he said softly. "Properly."

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. I had to weigh the pros and cons. Maybe if he saw it in a safe setting, one where I was in control, then he wouldn't freak out as much. Or maybe seeing it at all would be too much for him to handle.

In the end, the pros and cons didn't matter. I couldn't have denied the boy anything if I tried.

I swung my legs around, crossing one over the other on the inside of his room, so we were facing each other, my hands holding tightly to the windowsill.

"Are you sure?" I asked quietly, giving him an opportunity to back out.

He gulped but eventually nodded, heart racing in his chest.

I took a deep breath, my eyes never for a second leaving his as I allowed my mask to drop. Blood flooded my eyes, the irises turning an inky black and the white become a blood red. I felt the spaces under my eyes tingle as veins appeared, winding their way down my porcelain skin. I let my chin drop, revealing the pearly white fangs that had slipping from their hiding place in my gums.

Stiles' heart rate spiked even further, but he didn't flinch away like I'd expected him to.

He stared for a long time, saying nothing, just drinking in my drastically changed appearance. For once, the kid's face gave nothing away, so I had no clue what he was thinking. Was he repulsed? Afraid? Horrified?

My still chest clenched as I stared back, trying to hide my severe anxiety, keep it from showing in my eyes. I was surprised when his hand slowly lifted, tentatively – like he thought I was going to flinch away – approaching my features. It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually his skin was on mine, his hand cupping my jaw and his thumb gently brushing the hideous veins under my eyes.

I felt my brow furrow in confusion as I watched him stare at me, feeling the cool skin under his fingers. Slowly his fingers moved down to my mouth, and I held my breath as they brushed my lips before moving down to run over the teeth. "Does it hurt?" he asked quietly, still running the pad of his finger up and down the length of the fang. "When they come out?"

He pulled back, folding his hands together in his lap so I could answer properly. "At first it did," I said, my voice sounding pathetically shaky. I swallowed thickly, trying to clear it. "Not anymore."

He stared back at me as I slowly let the features fade. My fangs sank back up into my gums and the blood drained from my eyes, the veins disappearing with it. Stiles' expression didn't shift, he continued to stare at me with the same intensity, a seriousness that was so unlike him. "Bet you do that to charm all the boys," he joked suddenly.

...And there it was.

"Hardly," I scoffed, leaning back against the half opened glass of the window. "More like scare all the boys."

He leaned back in his chair too, and suddenly the strange tension that had appeared was gone as quick as it had come. "I don't see how," he said, trying to hold back a grin. "I hate to break it to you Jules, but you're really not all that scary."

I raised a single eyebrow at him, my own lips twitching up. I felt lighter than I could ever remember feeling, and I wondered what about what had just happened was so significant to my psyche.

"I'll have you know, I was once driven from a town with pitchforks," I told him with a smirk. "And I once had a priest perform an exorcism on me because I was so creepy he thought I was possessed."

"Were you in the habit of wearing capes at the time?"

"No, but I did live in an abandoned castle."

"That'll be what did it then."

"Uh-huh."

It was silent for a moment, both of us unable to contain our smiles. "You ever watched Van Helsing?" he asked suddenly, cocking his head at me. "The 2004 version?"

I mirrored his stance, pursing my lips thoughtfully. "Can't say that I have."

"And I bet it's been a long time since you last ate popcorn, huh?"

"It's been somewhere in the decades, yes."

"Well then, I think we need to re-introduce you to these things," he said, nodding as he spoke. I didn't move an inch. "That was a subtle invitation," he said bluntly, and I blinked in surprise.

"Oh."

"Come on," he chuckled, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a hand for me to take. I did so cautiously, letting him pull me off the windowsill and to my feet. "I'll take care of the popcorn, I don't need you breaking the microwave." He let go of my hand, making his way to the door. "But if my dad pokes his head in, hide under the bed or something, okay? I'm technically grounded."

It was quite a bit of information to process, so I nodded, throwing him a clumsy thumbs up. "You got it."

He grinned, rolling his eyes good-naturedly before disappearing out the door.

I folded my hands behind my back, awkwardly transferring my weight to the balls of my feet as I peered around the low lit room. Deciding it was weirder to stand in the exact same spot, I strolled closer to his desk, curiously peeking at what he was working on.

If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he might have been doing homework. But this was Stiles we were talking about, so I wasn't surprised to find printed out sheets about common folklores and conspiracies spread out across the desktop. I reached forwards, sifting gently through the pages until one in particular caught my eye.

_The Truth About the Battle of Willow Creek._

I smirked. Oh, the stories I could tell the kid.

I laid it back on the desk, folding my hands back behind me once more as I moved over to his chest of drawers. A line of photographs caught my eye, and I stepped closer, a smile lighting up my face as I peered at a baby-faced Stiles sandwiched between the Sheriff and a beautiful woman with flowing red hair. I moved down the line, pausing to gaze at each one, my smile widening with each look I got into the kid's life.

The last one was the best. Stiles stood in a baseball uniform, a too-big hat on his head, slipping off on the side. He was missing his two front teeth and holding a signed baseball in his hand, the woman from the previous pictures who could only be his mother standing behind him, a bright smile on her face as she looked down at her son.

I carefully picked the frame up, pulling it closer to me to get a better look. The corners of my lips were tugging up before I could stop them, and I stared down at the picture, feeling a sense of wonder and adoration appear in my gut.

I adored this boy.

His sense of humour was cruel and scathing in the very best way, but when it came down to it, he had the kindest, most pure heart of any human I'd met in my two centuries. He could look past my fangs and blood red eyes, he could see the person underneath. When I was with him I forgot all the years of pain and hell on earth, when I was with him I was that little girl from 1824, who laughed louder than anyone, and had more kindness in her little finger than most had in their whole bodies.

I knew, logically, that that girl was long since dead and gone. But I wondered if maybe there was still a spark of her floating around somewhere inside of me, and I'd just never found the right person to bring it out in me.

Maybe now I had.

"I was seven," Stiles' quiet voice came from the door, and I looked up in surprise, having been so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn't heard him approach. I wiped the smile off my face, pointlessly hoping he hadn't seen the dopey expression. "My parents drove me into the city to see my first live game, and dad pulled some strings to let me meet my favourite player." He was leaning in the doorway, big bowl of popcorn held under one arm. "It was a good day."

I turned back to the drawers, carefully putting the frame back in it's place on the top. "She's beautiful," I said matter-of-factly, giving it one final look over before I turned back to Stiles, my most gentle smile on my lips, which I discovered that for once, I didn't have to force.

"Yeah," he agreed with a smile, shaking his head for a second as if to shake off the memories before striding into the room. He put the bowl of popcorn on the desk, turning around and moving to the door. He began to shut it, pulling a strained face when it creaked loudly. He paused, making sure he couldn't hear his dad moving around in the room over before doing it again, this time biting the bullet and shutting it quickly. It locked into place with a dull thud and the kid gave a sigh of relief, brushing imaginary sweat from his brow.

I chortled, rolling my eyes and moving back over to the desk, plucking a piece of popcorn from the bowl and tossing it in the air, catching it expertly in my mouth.

"_Please_," Stiles scoffed when I flashed him a smug smile. "Anyone can do that."

"Oh yeah?" I challenged, and he bristled for a moment before stepping forwards, grabbing a piece of his own before tossing it into the air.

With the low lighting and his severe lack of coordination, it bounced off his nose and onto the floor. He pouted at it for a minute before picking another piece and trying it again.

This time it hit his eye.

It wasn't until his fourth attempt that he actually succeeded, though I still say it was because he yawned at the same time, meaning his mouth was open wider than usual.

Eventually he moved over to his bed, grabbing the covers and tearing them from his mattress until they sat in a puddle on the floor. "What are you doing?" I asked softly, pooping another few pieces of the surprisingly delicious popcorn into my mouth.

"Uh, making a nest," he replied like it was painstakingly obvious.

I tilted my head at him but he didn't elaborate, pulling his pillows off and arranging them on the floor.

After a long few minutes of tweaking, he stepped back and gestured for me to take a seat. I raised my brow but did as asked, moving forwards and slowly lowering myself onto the makeshift nest. It was surprisingly comfortable, I realised, as I reclined back against the pillows. Stiles stared at me expectantly, awaiting my assessment. "I like it," I told him reassuringly, my lips moving into a smile of their own accord.

He grinned crookedly, bouncing over to the desk and grabbing his laptop and the bowl of popcorn, bringing them with him as he settled in beside me. His leg rested flush against mine, and I heard his heart speed up at the contact, but for his sake I said nothing. He handed over the bowl, setting up the film and leaning back as it started to play.

Stiles liked to feed me with trivia and fun facts about the movie as it played, and I found I didn't mind at all, listening intently as he animatedly talked about the landscape shots we could see on the screen.

I smiled through the darkness at the boy, his face lit up from the glow of the screen, watching as he gestured wildly, explaining a stunt happening in front of us. It'd been decades since I'd last felt happiness, so I'd forgotten what it felt like.

But if I had to describe what I felt in that moment, I would say it was pure joy.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I've been awake for nearly 48 hours, but I had a sudden urge to edit and post this anyway, I come to you from the comfort of my bed, my softest robe and a hot water bottle. The song at the top of the chapter, 'Last Hope', is an amazing song, one I like to listen to when I'm writing this story. Anyway, let me know what you thought of this one, tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you loved, what you loathed...**

**Thank you for sticking with me, I've been having some writer's block over the past week, but you guys help me push through. **

**Thanks for being my inspiration :)**


	17. Going To Hell

_You know I know,_

_Yes, I've been told I redefine a sin._

_I don't know what's driving me to put this in my head._

_Maybe I wish I could die, maybe I am dead!_

Going To Hell – The Pretty Reckless

* * *

"Well done Juliet!" Coach boomed unnecessarily loudly as I let go of the wall, allowing myself to float to the ground. "Greenberg, hurry up!" he snapped once my feet were flat on the floor, glancing up at the kid who had only managed to make it halfway up the wall in the time it'd taken me to finish.

I unhooked the harness, stepping out of it and handing it off to Allison who took it with a small smile. I stepped back into the crowd, moving until I stood beside the one kid I could actually stand. "We've talked about this," Stiles murmured from the corner of his lips. "No using your enhanced abilities to make us humans look bad."

"Please," I scoffed, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms over my old Stones shirt. "It was only Greenberg."

He opened his mouth to argue, but paused, not able to come up with anything substantial. "You have a point," he finally replied, clicking his tongue and watching as the guy finally made it to the ground, standing on shaky legs as he handed his harness off to Scott. "Scallison."

My brow lifted, and I looked away from the ascending teens to fix him with a confused look.

"Their ship name," he said like it was obvious. "Scallison."

"That's not a real word," I deadpanned.

"Wha-I _know_," he huffed, rolling his eyes at me. "It's a combination of their names; their ship name."

"Ship?"

He sighed as though I were sucking the life from his body, which if he wasn't careful, I just might very well do. "As in – relation_ship_," he told me slowly, like he was talking to a child. "It means you want them to be together, sort of."

"But why make up words?"

"That's just what people do these days," he responded, turning to look at me with a smirk on his pale lips. "Which I guess you wouldn't know since you're about a thousand years old."

I curled my lip at him in annoyance at his quip, but he wasn't put off by it, merely grinning back at me toothily. There was a yelp from in front of us, and both of our gazes snapped to stare at the wall as Scott fell to the ground, his harness catching him only a foot above the ground. I sniggered, watching as Coach murmured to him before calling on Stiles and some blonde girl with a skin problem named Erica.

I patted Stiles on the shoulder as he moved forward, a silent encouragement.

He'd made it to the top and back to the ground again before Erica was even five feet off the ground, frozen in fear and shaking like a leaf. I frowned as I listened to her heart pound in her chest as she glanced at the ground, sobbing loudly with terror.

"Erica?" Coach asked worriedly as everyone crowded into the space beneath the girl. "Are you dizzy? Is it vertigo?"

"Vertigo's a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear," Lydia Martin spoke up, glancing at the teacher with distaste. "She's just freaking out." I raised an eyebrow at the remarkably intelligent response but quickly moved past it, not in the mood to ponder the inner workings of the queen bee.

Coach shot her a similar look, but he too had more important things to worry about. "Erica!"

"I'm fine," she insisted shakily, and not one of the people on the ground believed her.

"Coach, maybe it's not safe. You know she's epileptic," Allison spoke up from behind him.

"Why doesn't anybody tell me this stuff? Erica, you're fine. Just kick off from the wall, there's a mat to catch you."

With only a bit more coaxing the girl pushed off from the wall, floating gently to the ground. She turned around and made a beeline for the door, head ducking in embarrassment as laughter tittered through the crowd.

"Man, that must have been terrible," Stiles muttered under his breath once he made it to my side.

"Hm," I hummed distractedly, my mind already on my plans for the night. "See you at lunch," I told him, turning around and following the line of girls heading for the woman's locker room.

I didn't bother with a shower, merely pulling my leather pants back on and slipping my feet into my old combat boots, painting on a coat of lipstick in the mirror before turning around and heading back the way I'd come in.

* * *

"I'll pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet at the rink. Cool?"

"What's at the rink?" I asked innocently, and Stiles jumped violently, wheeling around to stare at me with wide eyes. I was perched on the chair beside him, one leg crossed over the other as I waited for an answer.

His mouth opened as he went to reply, but no sound came out. I raised an eyebrow at him but it didn't seem to help matters, he just continued to splutter incoherently. I rolled my eyes as him before looking to Scott for a reply. "Double date," he explained with a smile.

"Ooh," I teased, leaning forwards and resting my chin in my palm. "Who're the lucky ladies?"

"Allison and Lydia," he told me, a dopey grin on his face as he said his lover's name.

"We'd invite you but..."

"You don't want a 'thousand year old' vampire cramping your style?" I asked, tilting my head and narrowing my eyes, making him wince as I threw his previous words back at him.

He was saved from having to formulate a reply thanks to his best friend. "How old are you, anyway?" the puppy asked curiously.

I raised my eyebrows at him, glancing at Stiles whose cheeks were marred with red blotches. That could only mean that the kid hadn't gone running back to his friend and telling him everything I divulged. I'd been operating under the assumption that everything I told him got back to Scott eventually, but apparently that wasn't the case. Why the hell not?

"I'm 203," I admitted after a lengthy paused.

"Wow," the tan kid huffed, blinking at me like he was seeing a whole new person. "Does that mean you lived through the Civil War?"

I frowned, "That is how math works, yes."

"Then can you help me write my history paper?"

I wanted to say no, but the wolf pulled out his puppy-dog eyes, pleading me to say yes. I glanced at Stiles, hoping for help, but the kid just sent me his own pleading look, making me huff. I could have said no if I'd wanted to, but helping them with their homework was something friends did, and if I was really going to be normal, then there were some sacrifices I had to make.

"Yeah," I grumbled, sliding further down in my chair and avoiding their gazes.

Scott chuckled, but before he could get anything else out he cut himself off with a gasp. I looked up, frowning confusedly at the boy whose eyes were glued to the entrance to the cafeteria. I glanced at Stiles who looked over at me in the same second before we both turned around to see what he was looking at.

"What the holy hell is that?"

It was a fair enough question from Lydia. A girl I identified as Erica by scent swaggered into the room, her leopard print heels clicking against the ground as she moved, hips swaying as she made her way over to a table in the centre of the room. By then all eyes were on her, and she smirked as she stole an apple off a trembling boy's plate, taking a saucy bite before moving across the room.

"It's Erica," Scott answered, blinking at the sight before him.

She took another bite of the apple, turning on her heel and sashaying from the room.

Scott shot to his feet, scooping his backpack up and darting from the room, Stiles tripping over himself in his haste to follow. I rolled my eyes, slipping my bag over my shoulder and walking to keep up with them. Erica clearly had some form of speed, from the bite she'd no doubt received from Derek. I shoved open the door, the boys tumbling out behind me as we watched Erica slide into a familiar black Camaro.

From the driver's seat Derek turned around, Ray Bans in place as he grinned wolfishly at the three of us. I scowled unhappily, raising a single finger in the air at him. He didn't respond, just continued to beam smugly at us before stepping on the gas, peeling out of the school parking lot.

"First Isaac and now Erica?" Scott exclaimed, hands flying up to rake themselves through his hair. "When will it end?"

"How big do alphas usually make their packs?" Stiles asked me, arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at the trail of dust the car left behind.

I shrugged, expression melting into a glare as they shot me irritated looks. "I'm a vampire," I reminded them grouchily. "I haven't exactly spent my free time hanging out with werewolves – at least not until recently – why the hell would I know about their pack habits?" It was silent, and I felt something annoying in my gut, telling me to tell them what little more I knew. "But I _have _heard that an alpha needs at least three betas to be at the top of their game, so I'd expect at least one more in the near future."

Scott looked stressed, my reply not making him feel any better.

"Look," I continued with a sigh. "There's nothing we can do about it now. Just finish the school day, go to work, then go on your magical double date."

"And then what?" he asked glumly.

"Then in the morning we can figure everything out; put our heads together and come up with a strategy."

Scott looked like he wanted to protest, but Stiles clapped him reassuringly on the back. "She's right, man," he said, and I smiled at him gently before wiping away the expression before Scott could see. "Let's just focus on getting through the day, then we get to spend the evening with our ladies."

I snorted, making the buzz-cut teen look at me with raised eyebrows. "Lydia isn't _your lady_ by any stretch of the imagination," I told him bitingly.

"She could be," he snapped back, affronted.

I rolled my eyes just as the bell rang, nudging Scott when I noticed the teen wolf wasn't breathing. "Breathe, Scott," I instructed, watching as he took a heavy breath. "Just get to class."

The boys nodded and turned to move into the school, pausing when they realised I wasn't following. "What about you?" Stiles asked with a frown.

"Free period," I lied easily. He looked like he wanted to argue, but I didn't give him the chance. "I'll see you later, Stiles. Have a good time tonight," I said sincerely, cringing when Scott shot me a confused look. "Or don't. Whatever," I muttered cooly, spinning on my heel and making my way down the steps of the school, not for a second allowing myself to glance back.

The walk to the old underground station in the middle of town took a while. I could have run it, but I wasn't in the mood.

When Derek had told me where he was staying the night after the showdown with Peter, I hadn't thought much of it. He'd only told me in case of an emergency, and anyway, as if there would be any reason for me to go see him. Ever.

As it turned out, there were a number of reasons.

At the top of the list was, however odd, Isaac Lahey.

The kid had grown on me in the few hours we'd spent together, and I wanted to make sure he wasn't about to throw his life away to be on team Derek. I had to at least offer him another option, make sure he knew he wasn't limited to what was displayed in front of him.

Thankfully Derek wasn't there when I arrived, still out with Erica no doubt.

"Juliet?" Isaac asked confusedly as I descended the stairs, frowning in disgust at the less than comfortable living arrangements. His heart began to pound in his chest, though not enough to set off the change. He was just nervous, and I had a feeling I knew why.

"So Derek told you my dirty little secret, huh?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He swallowed but nodded anyway, crouching into a fighting stance before he'd even realised he was doing it, just as a precaution.

"Are you_ afraid _of me?" I tilted my head, my lips tipping up at the corners. It'd felt like decades since I'd last terrified someone, I didn't want to get rusty. He didn't reply, hands balling into fists at his sides, taking a step forwards as though to prove he wasn't, his foot resting on a discarded coke can, the biting crunch vibrating through the air. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Isaac," I said conversationally, "I just want to talk."

"About what?" he asked, perfect jaw clicking.

"About your options."

He looked hesitant, like he didn't really understand what I was saying.

"What has Derek told you?" I asked gently, trying a different tactic.

"Everything," he replied with a hint of defensiveness. "Hunters, full moons, you, giant lizard creatures. I know all of it."

"Hm," I hummed contemplatively, eyes narrowing at him.

"And I'm not afraid of you," he said, recalling my previous statement, and I generously pretended I couldn't hear the terrified stutter of his heart. Nonetheless a bright smirk appeared across his pale lips and he crossed his arms, straightening his shoulders confidently, chin tilting upwards.

I could see in his eyes that he wasn't going to be open to anything I had to say, and I had to think to myself: why did this fall onto my shoulders? Why was it my responsibility to take care of the situation these pups were in?

"So you've been around since forever, then?" he asked.

I ignored his terrible grammar and rolled my eyes, peering down at my blue painted nails, examining them for cracks. "I'm older than you'll ever live to be," I answered bluntly, wondering exactly where he was going with this.

"Do you know what killed my father?"

I met his baby blue eyes, raising an eyebrow at the question. "No," I told him truthfully. "But I'm going to find out."

* * *

I looked up from the book in my hands when footsteps on the pavement of my driveway caught my attention. I slid a bookmark into place and pushed myself off the couch and onto my feet. I got to the door the same time as my visitor. Opening the door before they could knock, I raised an eyebrow at a sightly sheepish looking Stiles. "Hello," I greeted him gently, cocking my head curiously, eyes flickering to the Jeep parked on the curb behind him, Scott sitting in the front seat, face lit up by his phone. I glanced up at the sky, wondering when it had gotten dark.

"Hey," Stiles responded lamely, and I focused back on him, watching curiously as he absent-mindedly scratched at his temple. "Uh, so something happened at the rink, and we thought we should tell you about, since maybe you might be able to make more sense of it than we could."

I opened the door wider, stepping back to give him room to come through. He smiled thankfully, spinning around and sticking two fingers in his mouth, letting out a piercing whistle that immediately got his werewolf friend's attention.

It must have been some kind of signal, because Scott instantly climbed out of the Jeep, jogging across the grass of my lawn until he was at Stiles' side, a small smile on his lips. "Hey Jules," he said politely.

"Scott," I greeted him, watching as he waited for Stiles to make the first move, stepping over the threshold and into my house. I shut the door quietly behind them, turning on the lights as I went. Stiles led the way through to the kitchen, immediately opening the cupboard and pulling out a pack of Oreos, ripping open the cardboard packaging and stuffing one into his mouth, holding it out to Scott. The wolf hesitated, apparently thrown that Stiles hadn't asked or anything first, but I smiled and nodded for him to go for it. "So what happened that was so important it warranted a visit into the lion's den?" I asked them as they took seats at the bench, facing me where I leant back against the sink.

"So we were skating, having a great time, I mean Lydia was holding my hand – I mean, sure, it wasn't exactly for romantic reasons, but there was still contact-" Stiles cut himself off when he caught sight of my flat expression, wincing to himself. "Uh, I'm getting off topic. Anyway, everything was fine, then suddenly Lydia was on the ground, screaming at nothing on the ice." He frowned as he chewed thoughtfully on a cookie. "She sounded terrified."

"And you want me to tell you why," I finished, and Scott nodded, dipping his hand into the box for another Oreo. "If I'm being honest," I began with a sigh, "I have no idea." The boys deflated, obviously disappointed I couldn't tell them more. "It probably has something to do with the reason she didn't turn or die from the bite," I offered.

"So no theories?"

I decided to lie. I didn't want to go around accusing the annoying girl of being a succubus or a banshee or a kitsune. No, it was better if I kept my theories to myself until I had something more concrete. "No theories."

The boys sighed defeatedly, simultaneously shoving another Oreo in their respective mouths.

* * *

"Do you wanna try making out for a second? Just to see how it feels?"

"What did I just walk into?" I asked lowly, making Stiles whip around to stare at me with wide eyes. Scott rolled his eyes, shoving his friend gently in the side. "Is there something I should know?" I tried again, this time a small teasing smirk finding its way onto my red lips.

"Ha, ha," Stiles laughed sardonically, only making my smirk widen. "Listen," he said, becoming serious suddenly. "Have you seen Boyd?"

"Who the fuck is Boyd?"

He sent me a flat look, unimpressed by my response.

"He's a student here. We think he's going to be Derek's third beta," Scott interjected before I could snap a response. "I'm going to go check out the ice rink and Stiles is going to his house."

"I'll tag along with Jimmy Olsen over here," I said flippantly, gesturing to Stiles over my shoulder.

The kid nodded before my thinly veiled insult sunk in. He blanched, wheeling around to fix me with an incredulous look. "_Jimmy Olsen_?" he asked with narrowed eyes. "As in Clark Kent's human and entirely unextraordinary friend?"

"That'd be the one," I chirped with a goading smirk.

"How do you even know who he is, I thought you rejected all things modern."

"Modern? Superman's been around since the 30's. And I do _not_ reject _all_ things modern!"

"Is that so?"

"I talk to you, don't I?"

Scott had had enough of our banter. "Enough," he snapped, though not unkindly, each hand coming to press into our respective shoulders. "We're wasting time," he said more gently. "We need to find Boyd, and we need to do it as soon as possible."

"He's right," Stiles said then, almost as an afterthought, reached down and grabbed my hand, using it to tug me down the hall in the direction of the main exit. "Call when you find something!" he yelled back over his shoulder, making a passing elderly teacher scowl in disapproval.

We burst out into the daylight, and Stiles pulled me over to his Jeep immediately, letting go of my skin to scramble for his keys. We slid into the car and Stiles peeled out of the parking lot with a screech of rubber on asphalt. "What are we going to do?" I asked after a pause as I watched him concentrate on driving from the corner of my eye. "If we find him in time," I clarified when he didn't answer. "What can we possibly say to convince him he doesn't want to be a werewolf?"

Stiles clicked his tongue, pondering my words.

"I mean, he's kind of a loner, right?" I continued, absently toying with the daylight ring on my middle finger. "Something tells me he could use super senses and advanced strength as much as the next pathetic kid."

He was quiet still, I could tell he was considering my words. "If you had the chance to do it all over again," he began softly, the sound contradicting to the way he frantically flew across the road in a rush to get to Boyd's house. For a moment I was concerned. If we were in a crash, I'd walk away without a scratch. The kid, however? Who knew what kind of damage he could inflict on himself. I kept my mouth shut despite my worries. Stiles was usually a safe driver, I'd seen it. So I wouldn't bring it up unless the recklessness became something of a habit. "Would you?" he asked, bringing me back to the conversation at hand. "Would you still become a vampire?"

Now it was I who was quiet. I wondered what to tell him; what he wanted to hear, or the truth.

"It wasn't exactly my choice in the first place," I finally said, staring out the window, pushing images of soulless, clear blue eyes. Stiles' heart stuttered loudly and my gaze snapped to him in alarm. His fists were curled so tightly around the steering wheel that his knuckles had turned white and his features had rearranged into a furious glare.

I wasn't sure what was wrong.

Perhaps admitting I hadn't chosen this life had reminded him of his brother found in Scott, and I felt bad for opening up healing wounds. I tentatively reached out until my fingers brushed the fabric of the sleeve of the red jumper he was wearing. "Sorry," I muttered with a self-loathing frown.

"Don't apologise," he said darkly, engine revving angrily below him. He was quiet for a long minute, but I left him to his thoughts, my hand on his arm staying in place so he knew I was there. "What was their name?"

I tilted my head, increasing the pressure of my hold on him, conveying my confusion. "Whose name?"

"The person who turned you," he elaborated. "What was their name?"

I hesitated. It wasn't a name that was meant to be uttered aloud, at least, not without consequences. "It doesn't matter," I told him, hand slipping from his bicep and moving so my arms were folded across my chest.

"Of course it matters," he spluttered, but was prevented from saying anymore when he pulled up outside an old, taken care of, one-storey house. Stiles frowned. "This conversation isn't over," he told me seriously, heart slamming away in his chest as he slid from the car, all but sprinting to the front door of the modest home.

I sighed, rubbing my temples like it was possible to get a headache (when a witch wasn't involved, anyway). I cracked open the door, stepping out and disappearing from view, reappearing by Stiles' side.

"Boyd?" Stiles shouted, banging at the door anxiously. "Hey Boyd, it's Stiles." The kid ran his palms over his short hair, spinning around to pin me with a desperate look. "Isn't there something you could do?"

"Even if I was in the mood for breaking and entering," I said, leaning against the rough bricks and tilting my head at him. "It's not like I could get inside without an invitation. Besides, I can't hear a heartbeat anywhere in the house. It's empty."

"Come on," he begged, apparently not happy with my response. "We have to be sure. Besides, maybe we'll find a clue or something that can tell us where he is."

I considered him for a beat, taking in the wide, sad, chocolate puppy dog eyes and the blotchy red skin that shouldn't have been as attractive as it was. With a defeated huff I slipped the bobby pin that was holding my bangs from my face out of my hair, dropping to my knees in front of the door.

"Are you seriously picking the lock?" he asked, and I could hear the raised eyebrow in his tone.

I tossed a frustrated scowl over my shoulder at him. "Would you rather I did nothing?"

He tossed his hands up, taking a step back as though giving me room to work, "Carry on."

It was quiet for a few moments before suddenly the sound of footsteps hitting the soft grass of the yard behind me met my ears, and a small sniff confirmed that it was indeed a bitch, in the most literal sense. "We have company," I grunted, tipping my heads forwards until my forehead tapped against the metal grate over the door.

"What-_ahh_!" Stiles yelped as he spun around, startling at the sight of Erica standing directly in front of him.

She giggled, eyes glued to the kid, not for a moment flicking down to glance at me. "What are you doing here Stiles?" the blonde asked sweetly.

"Noth-I-uh," Stiles stammered, swallowing loudly. I sighed, slipping the bobby pin into my pocket and sliding to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest and staring impassively at the beta. "I'm just looking for...uh..."

"Boyd?" she supplied.

"Yeah. Yes. Boyd."

"You know what you're doing right now that's kind of funny?" Stiles shook his head. "You're only looking in my eyes."

"...That's funny?"

"Yeah," she grinned wolfishly. "Because it's that kinda look, that you're trying not to look anywhere other than my eyes. But you want to, don't you? You want a nice long, hard, look."

Before I'd even really registered the anger I suddenly felt, I noticed the slight sting as my own nails dug into the flesh of my palms. I stopped before I could draw blood, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to relax the tense expression I knew had come over my face.

"Not really, no," Stiles muttered stiltedly.

"Oh, so it's just my eyes?"

"Yes. You have beautiful eyes."

"I have beautiful _everything."_

"New found self confidence," Stiles smiled unconvincingly. "Congratulations Erica. I should get going."

He moved to step around her, but before he could take so much as a step her hand smacked out and shoved him back several paces. "You're not going anywhere," she growled, and fury crashed through me like a tidal wave.

"Why not?"

She held up what was unmistakably a piece of engine from the Jeep, a triumphant smirk on her glossy lips. "You're having car trouble," she replied simply, rearing back her hand, preparing to smack it into Stiles' face.

I, of course, was having none of that.

I caught the hand with ease, stopping it inches from his skin and using her own momentum to shove her backwards. The metal object slipped from her hand as she sailed backwards, ending up sprawled across the grass, blinking dazedly at the sky.

I smirked, stepping around the kid and rolling my neck in preparation. I knew this wouldn't be hard. She was new, barely a couple of days old, and therefore painfully easy to beat. "Jules," Stiles said from behind me, but I paid him no mind.

A cruel, indulgent, cheshire cat grin spread across my lips as I strolled down the few steps leading to the yard, floating over to Erica, who glared up at me. I tilted my head innocently, blinking at her with wide, excited eyes. "This is going to be fun," I beamed, something akin to joy filling me as I practically ached to get my fingers under her flesh and elicit agonised screams from her pretty little mouth.

"Jules," Stiles repeated, rushing forwards to wrap his hands around my upper arms, spinning me around to face him. "Stop," he said, meeting my gaze with a serious stare of his own. It was like I was suddenly swept up in his eyes, unable to help myself from staring back. I could feel the heat of his hands through the sheer sleeves of my top, and it felt like he was boiling my blood from the inside.

If my heart could beat, it would have been racing.

I heard Erica scramble to her feet behind me, her shoes clicking against the ground as she fled, and I flinched, preparing to spin around and stop her. "Jules," Stiles said again, a small calming smile on his pale lips. "Come on, I'm fine, you're fine, everyone's fine. Now put those fangs away."

I hadn't even realised they'd slipped out. I blinked at him, finally taking my eyes from his, only for them to drift over his freckles.

"What's going on with you?"

It was a fair enough question, one that actually had a simple answer.

I didn't like people touching what was mine.

But that response posed the question: since when was Stiles Stilinski _mine_? I took a deep breath, stopping myself from thinking too intently on that one. Instead I focused on my senses to bring me back from the boiling and confusing rage I'd felt.

I sniffed, taking in the scent on mint and chocolate that always clung to Stiles, as well as the fresh earth from Boyd's yard. I could hear birds chirping in a tree to my right, and bees buzzing in the garden. I traced constellations in Stiles' freckles. I could feel his hands on me still, and I focused on their warmth.

Stiles was my best friend; of _course_ I was protective of him.

His hands clenched tighter around my arms, and I blinked again, noticing the frown on his face.

"Sorry," I apologised immediately, already regretting what I didn't know I'd done wrong.

"What?" he said with a raised brow. "No, I was just thinking..." he trailed off, glancing down at where his fingers were curled around my upper arms. Those adorable red blotches appeared on his cheeks and he cleared his throat, pulling his hands away like I'd burned him. I raised an eyebrow impassively, and he tugged at his collar awkwardly. "Why would Erica run?" he continued, clearly eager to keep the subject off of him. "Unless she had somewhere to be..."

"The ice rink," I finished with a nod, spinning around and taking no more than three steps before realising the flaw in my plan. "How are you going to get home?" I asked Stiles worriedly.

"I'll be fine," he huffed with a casual eye roll. "Hurry up and go," he urged, making a shooing motion with his hands.

I shot him an uneasy smile, turning around and disappearing from sight.

* * *

Getting to the ice rink wasn't a problem. It took slightly longer than it should have, since I had no idea where the hell it was. Once I'd asked for directions, feeling awkward and not even slightly heroic, I arrived at the looming building. The front door was unlocked, which I thought may have been almost too convenient.

Either way, I slipped into the chilled entrance silently, my feet making no sound as I padded across the carpet, passed the ticket office and into the rink. The sounds of fighting met my ears; fist hitting flesh, wolves growling. I moved soundlessly through the room, pausing at the entry to the ice rink.

Everyone was too distracted by the fight to notice me, even with their heightened senses; though half the group were unconscious, sprawled pathetically across the ice. Derek was kicking Scott's ass, and I knew I couldn't let him continue. I'd only known Derek for a few months, who knew if he was capable of murdering one of his own?

It wasn't easy to sprint across the ice, but I managed to prevent falling on my face, keeping my footsteps light, barely hitting the ground. Derek still heard me coming and he spun around, arm held back, prepared to slam into my nose.

I ducked the attack with ease, crouching down in front of a dazed Scott, my position defensive as I let out a furious, protective snarl. The alpha's eyes glowed ruby red as he bared his teeth at me. I copied the action, flashing him my own fangs as blood flooded the whites of my eyes, the irises turning an inky black.

Nothing was said, but we both attacked at the same moment, surging forwards. I was surprised when he didn't immediately go in for a bite, and it occurred to me that he wasn't intending to kill me, or anyone for the matter. But I knew I still had to make a point.

Scott was my friend, and nobody hurt my friends.

He swiped at me, fingers curled so his claws were extended. I dodged it, swinging under his arm and landing a kick to his side. He grunted and spun around to hit me but I'd already moved, landing a punch to his throat.

I hadn't been able to fight Peter like this because he was the worst kind of alpha: one who fully shifted into a giant, mutated wolf. Luckily for me, Derek was just a regular werewolf, one who stayed half shifted, making him much easier to take in a fight.

He managed to slam his hand into my gut as I at the same time jammed my fist into his jaw. It clicked and I caught a wince before he covered the expression, a hardened glare taking over. He punched me in the stomach again, this time it hurt. I growled, darting out of the way of his next hit.

I realised it was an exceptionally even fight. He was a whole lot stronger, but I was a hell of a lot faster. I wondered why he didn't just bite me, but I didn't have time to think about it too much as I flipped out of the way of another blow.

Suddenly we stopped, as though there'd been some kind of signal.

It was silent as we stared at each other, but neither of us made a move. Finally his eyes stopped glowing and he began to walk backwards, refusing to turn his back on me.

Smart boy.

The kid who I figured must have been Boyd jumped down from where I'd barely noticed him on the ice machine, and as he walked past me I caught a whiff of blood with a faint trace of dog.

"Don't," Scott grunted, not knowing it was too late. "You don't want to be like them."

"You're right," he replied, pausing beside us. He lifted his jacket, revealing the bloodied bite mark on his side. "I wanna be like you."

I let them leave, waiting until I heard their footsteps disappear before appearing at Scott's side, crouching down next to the teen, my hands held awkwardly above his chest, not sure what to do with them.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, deciding to gently prod his cheek. He hissed in pain and I drew back, regretting the decision.

"We need to get somewhere safe," he murmured, struggling to push himself up onto his elbows. I didn't think he should move, but I moved down to help him up anyway, I doubted he'd listen to my advice. I wrapped an arm around his waist, using my enhanced strength to lift him up and drag him across the ice.

"So where to?" I asked, taking care not to slip.

"The animal clinic," he replied. "There's someone I need to see."


	18. All Of Me

_What would I do without your smart mouth?_

_Drawing me in, and you kicking me out_

_You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down_

_What's going on in that beautiful mind_

_I'm on your magical mystery ride_

_And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright_

All of Me – John Legend

* * *

I took a drag of the chemicals from my cigarette, holding it in my lungs for a long moment before blowing it out in perfect smoke rings. With my free hand I pulled my dated cell phone from my back pocket, turning it on and scrolling through my limited number of contacts until I found Stiles' name.

"_Hey,_" the kid answered, and I heard the sound of machinery in the background.

"Hey," I responded, flicking the ash from the tip of my smoke. "Where are you? Did you make it home?"

"_I got towed to the nearest garage_," he told me, sounding tired. "_I'm still here, the jackass in there is totally screwing me over_," he paused, "_is it still screwing me over if I know it's happening_?"

"He's over charging you?" I asked with a frown. I only got a frustrated sigh in response. "Want me to come compel the price down?" I offered, nodding politely to an older businessman walking into the station I was stood outside of to pay for his gas.

"_Would you_?" he replied hopefully, and I couldn't help the twitch of my lips.

"Where are you?"

"_The garage on the corner of Elizabeth and Burke_."

"I'll be there soon," I told him, and he muttered his thanks a moment before I hung up. I took my time finishing off my cigarette, glancing up at the sky, annoyed that I couldn't see any stars thanks to the harsh fluorescent lights of the station.

I wandered into the building, purchasing a new pack of smokes since I'd just had my last one. The hell with it, I thought as I lit up another one, walking through the back streets until I got to the address Stiles had given me. I took my time, strolling along the footpath as I got closer to my destination, puffing on my smoke.

I hadn't been expecting a parade of officers and paramedics stationed outside of the garage, and when I caught sight of two men wheeling a covered corpse out on a gurney, my unbeating heart dropped into my stomach. Being what I was, I couldn't feel the cold, but I could have sworn I felt ice cold terror trickle through my veins. My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes began to burn.

"Stiles?" I said, my voice coming out as barely more than a choked whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Stiles?!" I yelled, desperation colouring my tone. People turned to look at me, but I shoved through the small gathered crowd and passed the policeman guarding the barricade, ignoring his indignant cries. "_Stiles?!_"

"Jules?"

I spun around, eyes searching wildly until my green irises locked with his brown ones. Relief flooded me so strongly that I had to bite my tongue to stop the stinging in my eyes.

Uncaring that I could have exposed myself, I rushed forwards at my top speed, all but slamming into the kid where he stood with his father beside the back of an open ambulance. I breathed in his minty/coco-y scent, burrowing my face in his collarbone and throwing my arms around his neck. His heart stuttered in his chest and his arms came up to wrap around my waist, squeezing me tightly. "I thought..." I trailed off, barely able to finish the thought.

"I'm fine," he assured me quietly, chin resting on the crown of my head.

I didn't let go, staying exactly where I was, not wanting to leave his side for even a second. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, breathing in his scent once again. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered the dull ache in the back of my throat, but I was easily able to ignore the hunger; my relief at seeing him safe overshadowing my need for blood.

Finally, after an eternity that was far too short, I pulled back, my hands slipping up to cup the warm back of his neck, my eyes assessing him carefully, looking for any hint of damage.

"What the hell happened?" I asked softly once I was sure he was unharmed, meeting his chocolate gaze.

He opened his mouth to reply, then turned to look at his father, who was watching us with curious eyes. I awkwardly let go of my hold on his son, the kid's hands slipping from their place at my waist. Stiles cleared his throat, looking at his dad pointedly. "Can I go now, please?"

"Sure," his father nodded, crossing his arms. "But not your Jeep. I'm gonna have to impound it." Stiles protested, but the sheriff was having none of it. "Sorry kid, evidence." He looked up at me, smiling politely, "Nice seeing you Juliet, make sure he gets home safe?" Stiles didn't look happy with his words, but I felt a warm glow at them, nodding happily. "See you at home," he nodded to his son, turning to head back to the building.

"Right, well at least make sure they wash it," Stiles called after him loudly.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his short hair. I grabbed his arm gently, moving him out of the rain and under the cover of an overhang, away from curious ears. "So what happened?"

"It was the lizard thing," he replied quietly.

My eyes widened and I stared at him worriedly. "And it left you alive?" I asked, looking over him once again, just to be sure nothing was broken.

"Clearly."

I shot him an unimpressed glare, but he merely rolled his eyes back at me. "Details," I commanded darkly, crossing my arms and clicking my jaw.

He sighed but complied, running me through what had happened, telling me how he'd been drugged or something, temporarily rendering him paralysed, forcing him to watch as the car crushed the mechanic. I reached out a touched his arm when his eyes dropped to the floor, obviously reliving the experience. I was reminded then of how very young and innocent he was, so very pure, untouched by the horrors of the world.

He looked back up at me gratefully, other hand lifting to cover mine, squeezing gently before we both let go. "Do you need me to walk you home?" I asked, frowning as I suddenly wished I had a car. Perhaps I should have invested in one?

"I called Scott," he told me. "He's picking me up in his mom's car." He paused, tucking his hands into his pocket, glancing out into the light rain. "You could come with me," he suggested with forced casualness.

I tilted my head, confused. Then I understood.

He didn't want to be alone tonight. It made sense, I supposed. He had just seen a man get killed by a giant lizard. If I were human, perhaps I too wouldn't want to go home to a dark house. "Why don't you come to my house?" I said, my hands twisting in front of me. "We could make pancakes for dinner and I could show you those old photos of me from the past few centuries?"

He hesitated, and I was considering taking back the offer before he spoke, "That'd actually be great." I smiled, inexplicably relieved. Before I could say anything else, he nodded to the road, where a black car had just pulled up, a familiar teen wolf sitting in the driver's seat. "Here he is."

I ducked out into the rain, keeping my head down as I strode towards the car. I let Stiles slip into the front seat, moving into the back, smiling politely through the darkness at Scott.

"You okay?" the boy asked his friend, apparently already filled in on the night's events.

"You were right," Stiles replied, pulling his hoodie tighter around him and frowning out the window. "He's not like you. His eyes were almost like, reptilian. There was something about him..."

"What do you mean?" Scott questioned, shifting in the chair to look at him.

"You know like when you see a friend in a halloween mask, but all you can actually see are their eyes, and you feel like you know them, but you can't figure out who it is?"

Scott glanced over at me, and I looked back with a concerned frown. "Are you saying you know who it is?" he asked, looking back at the short haired kid.

"No," Stiles replied tensely. "But I think it knew me."

Scott exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I can't deal with this right now," he said, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and bumping his forehead on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath, sitting back up straightly and putting the car into gear, pulling away from the crime scene and out onto the main road. "So straight to your place?"

"No, actually," Stiles replied meekly, leaning forwards to turn up the heat and adjust the vents so it was aimed at him. Scott turned to look at him in confusion. "Uh, Juliet's place."

"Oh?" he said with a furrowed brow before his eyes popped open widely. "_Oh_!"

Stiles wasn't happy with his reaction, he leant across the cab and smacked his best friend on the back of the head. "Don't," he hissed, cheeks turning a blotchy red.

"What?"

"You _know_ what."

"But-"

"No."

"I just-"

"_No!_"

"Red light," I said detachedly, staring out the windscreen as Scott hit the brakes, only just realising the lights in front of him had turned red. "You can come over too, you know," I told him once everyone had taken a breath, "I promise not to bite." As I said this I allowed a toothy grin to spread across my lips as I jokingly sneered at him in the mirror.

"I think I'll pass," he responded, chuckling at me and rolling his eyes at my antics. "I have to get home to my mom anyway, she needs the car for work."

Not three minutes later he'd pulled up onto the curb outside my shabby excuse for a house. Stiles patting his friend on the shoulder in thanks and slipped from the car. I mumbled a polite thank you of my own before following the boy, shutting the door behind me and watching Scott drive to the end of the street and turn left.

I walked up the drive, Stiles at my heels, the kid buzzing with nervous energy. I let him into the house, flicking on the light, the front room lighting up with a yellow glow. Stiles made a beeline for the kitchen and I followed, turning on the light in that room too, leaning against the threshold as he helped himself to the contents of my pantry, pulling out the ingredients for pancakes.

I figured I wouldn't be of any help in that department, and instead moved through to the living room, picking out an old jazz record and slipping it onto the turntable, the soft sound of saxophones filling the house. I kicked off my shoes, leaving them beside the couch and padding with sock-clad feet over to the hallway closet, where I dug out three old photo albums.

I wiped the dust off their old leather faces, pursing my lips as I picked them up, sliding to my feet and moving back into the kitchen. I took a seat on a barstool sitting by the bench, placing the albums down in front of me as I watched Stiles whisk the flour, milk and eggs together casually, nodding along to the music flooding the house as he worked.

I watched him silently, my chin propped up in my palm, observing him as he went about pouring the batter into the greased pan. "Quit staring," he murmured after a long moment, refusing to lift his eyes from the bubbling batter in front of him.

I blinked my green eyes, my head tilting naturally as I continued to watch him. He seemed to feel so at home here, and a part of me liked that. In the few short months we'd known each other, he'd become comfortable enough with me to waltz into my kitchen and start making a meal, kicking his own shoes off and leaving them by the door.

"Seriously, it's distracting," he said, flipping the pancake sloppily, some of it ending up on the stove top. "I'll clean that up."

"Tell me something about you," I spoke up, ignoring his pleas to stop staring. I had to watch him, I couldn't help myself, I had to figure him out.

He glanced up at me confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me something about you that I don't already know," I said, sitting up straighter and curling my hands together in front of me.

"Why?"

"Because it feels like all we ever talk about is me. I wanna know more about you," I answered simply, shrugging my shoulders.

"Like what?"

"Which power ranger is your favourite?"

He looked up at me after placing the first pancake on a plate, immediately moving to make a second one. "All the questions in the world, and _that's_ the one you ask?" I didn't reply, merely cocking my head at him, making him roll his eyes in mock exasperation. "It's the black one, by the way."

"Favourite Spielberg film?"

"Jurassic Park, _obviously_."

"Bowie song?"

"Tie between Space Oddity and Ziggy Stardust."

I thought for a moment. "Star Wars character?"

He paused before whipping around to fix me with a deadly serious look. "You like Star Wars?"

"As much as the next girl," I shrugged. "It's one of the few modern cinematic pieces I found I could really get into."

"Unbelievable," he muttered to himself, turning back to the cooking pancake. "The two hundred year old vampire watches Star Wars, and my sixteen year old best friend doesn't even know who Jabba the Hutt is. _Pathetic_," he grumbled under his breath, forgetting I could hear every word. I snickered quietly as he dished up a fourth pancake, then turned the stove off, leaving the bowl of batter on the side.

He took the plate, walking around until he sat beside me. "Come on," he said, nudging me and shovelling a lump of syrup soaked pancake into his mouth. "Enough about me, I'm not nearly as interesting as you," he laughed, and although I strongly disagreed, I stayed quiet. He reached forwards and opened the first album, peering down at the old black and white photographs inside. "Holy shit," he muttered, leaning closer to get a better look. "There's no way that's you."

I looked down at the photo with a soft smile. "That's the earliest photograph I have," I told him, eyeing the faded picture, observing the ghastly frills on the dress and the ugly bonnet I'd been wearing.

"From 1927?" he asked, glancing up at me for a brief second before peering at the picture. "That's when the camera was invented."

"1930," I responded, lips twitching up at the random fact he'd pulled rom that crazy brain of his. "I used to own several painted self portraits, but I had to leave them behind when I left Germany." He turned the page, excitedly peering at the other pictures as he distractedly shoved another forkful of food passed his lips. "Who's that?" he asked, pointing to a photo of me standing with an older man with shaggy hair and a strong jawline.

Something deep in my gut twisted in a way that was nearly painful. I didn't want to think about him, I didn't want anything to do with him. "An old friend," I said darkly, glaring down at the grey eyes that I knew in reality were a piercing blue.

"Doesn't sound like it," he muttered, but didn't question it, flipping the page again, moving towards the end of the nineteenth century. "Who're the kids?"

I glanced down at the photo of me standing in a field, a baby in my arms and two toddlers by my ankles. "My descendants," I answered him with a fond smile. He looked up at me sharply, blinking in surprise before he turned back to the picture. "They thought I was just a distant cousin, it was the only way I could be part of their lives without compulsion.

"What're their names?"

"The baby is Cecelia, and the twins are Ebony and Jonathan. Cece grew up to be a baroness and the twins both started families in London."

"London?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

I glanced back up at him with a smirk. "That's where I was born," I admitted. "It's where I grew up, and it's where I died." Stiles looked torn between fascination and sympathy. I didn't let him say anything on the subject, not in the mood for pity. "I used to visit all the time, back when I still had family there. Now it's just…too full of painful memories."

"Where's your accent?" he asked, and I got the feeling he was trying to liven my spirits.

"Right here," I responded in my natural accent. It was like slipping into a pair of boots, and reminded me of both simpler and more complicated times. "I got rid of it when I was on the run, had to get used to speaking as in yank, or German, or Greek, or Australian…"

His heart had picked up, and I listened as he swallowed thickly, blinking a fog away from his eyes and shovelling more food into his mouth. "On the run from who?"

I hesitated, but decided I'd already gone this far. "The vampire who turned me."

He was silent for a long moment, probably figuring out how to respond. "You never told me that," he said. "About how you died. About who did this to you."

His words cut me like a knife. He made it sound like there was something wrong with me, something that needed to be fixed. I fought back my irritation though, knowing that wasn't how he meant to come across.

"It's a long story," I told him tiredly, taking it upon myself to flip the page. I decided a change of topic was best. "This is me in Switzerland in 1899," I said, and Stiles gave a frustrated huff but didn't argue. "Beside me is a good friend of mine, Damon Salvatore," I said, pointing at the handsome man to my right in the photograph. "We're still in contact even today. We used to just write letters, but it became a lot easier to keep in touch with the invention of the phone."

He pushed his way through more pages, observing them quietly, asking me questions every now and again. Soon enough he'd moved on to the next album, this one from further down my personal timeline, most appearing in colour.

I showed him Daisy and Penelope, explaining how my old friends were nurses in the war. I pointed out Gary, telling him about how he once jumped off the empire state building on a dare, and Mark, who refused to eat anything but goat's blood. I showed him pictures of Travis, an old warlock friend of mine who used to make it windy so girl's skirts would fly up. He laughed at my outrageous stories, asking questions, eager to find out more about my unfairly long life.

I didn't let him get away with it though; I asked him just as many questions about him and his life in Beacon Hills. He told me about the time Scott fell out of a tree and broke his arm, and the time he followed Lydia around the mall, trying to work up the courage to speak with her. He laughed as he recounted the first day of seventh grade when tripped on the stairs and gave himself a bloody nose.

It was good, and I felt better than I could remember feeling. It was as natural as breathing to spend time with Stiles, and I never wanted it to end.

* * *

"What does a bestiary look like?"

I looked up from my novel, raising an eyebrow at the left field question.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked Stiles cautiously, wondering where he was heading with this.

He took a seat beside me on the bench, glancing down at the book in my hands before meeting my eyes again. "We think the Argents might have one," he told me, "And maybe it'll help us figure out what – and who – this thing is."

It was a solid enough plan. "I don't tend to spend much of my free time hanging around hunters," I said, and he sagged disappointedly. "However, I'd suppose they look a lot like a witch's grimoire," I offered, and he perked up again.

"I read about those," he interjected excitedly.

"Witch's cookbook," I told him with a smirk, recalling an old friend saying the same thing.

"So what should I tell Allison to look out for?"

I paused, considering the question. "It'll be small, something that can be easily transported. It'll be old looking and worn out, having been in their family for generations. It'll most likely be bound in leather, and if she gets a chance to check inside, the bulk of it will probably be written in latin."

"Got it," he said, nodding as he pushed himself to his feet. "Are you coming to the game tonight?"

"I wasn't planning on it," I shrugged, frowning as he pouted dramatically.

"Well, you should," he said decisively.

"Why?"

He hesitated. "I don't have a good answer."

"Well, I'm convinced."

He rolled his eyes, spinning around and heading for the exit. "I'll see you there!" he yelled over his shoulder with a wave, and I couldn't help the way I grinned down at the words on the page in front of me.

Time seemed to pass slowly after that. I didn't pay attention in class, but then again, when did I ever? I hung around school after the final bell rang, staying in the library, re-reading Pride and Prejudice. The room emptied until I was the last person there, curled up in the corner, nearly at the end of the book. Once I figured it had gotten late enough, I shoved the book into my bag, dropped it off at my locker so I wouldn't have to carry it around all night, and made my way out to the field.

"So?" I asked Stiles casually, appearing beside him on the bench where he spent every game. He jumped, turning to glare at me without any real anger behind it. "What's the plan?"

"Plan?"

I shot him an exasperated look, "You_ do_ have a plan, don't you?"

"Of course we have a plan," he responded, almost offended.

"Well?" I prompted when he didn't continue.

"Okay, Allison's going to get the keys to her grandfather's office, I'm going to take them, find the bestiary then get the keys back to her before he realises they're missing."

I blinked, "Sounds simple enough."

"Hey, Juliet!" Coach yelled, storming up to me with an angry look on his face. "Lacrosse players only; you can't sit here."

"Yes I can," I told him blankly, tilting my head as my eyes caught his and his expression flattened.

"Yes you can," he repeated. I blinked and the connection broke. He scratched his head, frowning dazedly before shaking it off and moving over to the edge of the field.

"That will never _not _be awesome," Stiles mumbled with a smirk, and I bumped my shoulder with his in acknowledgement. "Can you sit sideways and keep an eye on the Argents?" he asked me after a long moment, watching the people on the grass scramble for the little white ball. "I'd do it but something tells me that you'll be a lot less conspicuous."

I threw one leg over the bench so I was straddling it, facing Stiles, able to see the old hunter in my peripheral vision clearly. We were quiet for most of the game, him watching the players while I watched the targets diligently. Finally Allison managed to get the jacket off her grandfather, and I watched her slip the keys from her pocket.

"It's a go," I muttered to Stiles under my breath.

He stood up immediately, turning to leave before pausing and leaning back down to murmur to me, "Aren't you coming?"

"It'll look suspicious if we both leave," I hissed back, and he nodded, turning around and slipping passed Allison, quietly taking the keys from her grip.

I watched the game, waiting impatiently for Stiles to get back. Who knew what could go wrong? What if the old man had sensors of cameras or something that would alert him to Stiles' presence in his office. Ten minutes passed, and I couldn't stomach the anxiety. I was too worried, I could barely even focus on breathing properly. With an agitated huff I stood to my feet, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jacket and slipping silently through the crowd.

I hadn't even made it to the front doors of the school before I found him. He was leaning into a car, talking with a familiar, sobbing redhead.

"Stiles?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest and shooting him my most annoyed look. He spun around so fast it was like he'd been burned. He winced as he saw me, nodding his head before leaning back through the window to talk to the crying girl within.

"Can you just give me five minutes?" Lydia shot him an annoyed glare that may have even rivalled mine. "I know, I'm sorry...just stay here and continue crying – or _not _crying, if you want. Whatever works for you. Just stay here and I'll be right back, and then we can talk. About anything, yeah? Okay? Just five minutes-"

I'd had enough of his rambling. I reached forwards, grabbing onto his arm and tugging. He let out a yelp, having no choice but to let me drag him into the building. I let go once we were through the doors, his sneakers squeaking in the hallway.

"Dammit," he grunted as he jogged towards the principle's office. "That was my _shot_. Right there, that was my _window_!"

I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. "If it's meant to be, there'll be another window," I told him, ignoring the sour feeling working through my gut.

"Yeah," he huffed, not sounding at all convinced. We reached the office and he immediately lifted the keys, taking three tries until he got the right one, sliding it into the lock and pushing his way into the room.

We instantly set to work. I moved over to the bookshelves along the wall while Stiles rummaged through his desk, muttering to himself as he searched. "There's nothing here," I said after a long few minutes, knowing that with each passing second we were closer to getting caught.

He pulled out his phone, quickly typing out a text as I continued searching, though by then I was sure there was nothing there.

I heard footsteps in the hall, approaching the office, but I could tell by the weight of the steps and the click of heels that it was a woman, and definitely not grandpa-Argent. "Incoming," I muttered, pulling out a book, scanning the title then tossing it back on the growing pile.

"What?"

"Hello Stiles."

Even with the warning the kid still jumped, grasping his chest and taking a deep breath. "Erica," he said once he'd calmed down.

"Listen princess," I said condescendingly. "We're completing a time-sensitive task right now, so run along back to your little boy alpha."

"Yeah," Stiles added pointlessly, and I rolled my eyes.

"My 'little boy alpha' would like a word with you," she told us with a smirk.

"And if we don't?" Stiles asked bravely, and her hand snapped out, grabbing the boy by the ear. He yelped in pain, flinching away though she kept a tight hold.

"Then I'll rip your ear off," she said with a saccharine smile.

"But then everyone will be like, 'why's he walking round without an ear?'" Stiles said with a wince as she tugged. "And do you really want to have to answer that question."

"What does he want?" I interrupted before he could say anything even more stupid.

"Just to talk."

I narrowed my eyes at her, but her heartbeat was steady. "Okay," I said, ignoring the sharp look Stiles sent my way. "But let him go, or I'll rip off _your_ ear and shove it so far down your throat that you'll be able to hear your digestion system."

Stiles grinned almost giddily as she let him go, looking incredibly smug. She glared at me but turned around, leading the way out of the office. We followed, however reluctantly.

She led us through the school and into the pool centre, the water giving the room a delightfully creepy aqua glow. The latest alpha stood in front of us, a basketball in his grasp.

"Stiles," Derek greeted us with faux politeness, "Juliet."

"Derek," Stiles muttered with a scowl.

"What'd you see at the mechanic's garage?" he asked, straight to the point.

"Ah, several alarming EPA violations that I'm seriously considering reporting," he snarked, and I pressed my lips together to conceal a proud smile.

The wolves chuckled, glancing at each other before Derek sank his claws into the material of the ball, making it instantly deflate.

"Holy _God_," Stiles shuddered and on instinct I shifted closer to him, an action Derek didn't miss.

"Let's try that again."

"I'm sorry," I said sarcastically, crossing my arms and pasting a sarcastic smirk on my lips. "Was that supposed to be some kind of _threat_?"

Derek copied the expression, tilting his head and pinning me with a harsh green stare, "You tell me."

"You'd better hope for your sake that it wasn't," I warned. "Because if you think I won't kill you while you sleep, then you've got another thing coming."

"Alright!" Stiles interrupted before the situation could get out of hand. He reached forwards, grabbing my hand in his own and squeezing, pulling me back so I was standing beside him. "Look, the thing was pretty slick looking. It's skin was dark, it had a pattern. I think I actually saw scales. Is that enough? Because I have somebody I really need to talk to."

I pulled my hand out from his, not in the mood for any contact. Of course his priority was Lydia. Derek shot him an irritated look, and he got the message that he wasn't done just yet.

"Ugh, alright," he groaned, equally irritated. "Eyes...eyes were yellowish and slitted. It has a lot of teeth and, oh, it's got a tail too. Are we good?"

My sensitive hearing picked up the faint sound of what I thought sounded like claws tapping against metal. I froze and took a breath in, cringing at the sour smell I was met with.

"What? Have you seen it?" Stiles asked eagerly. "You have this look on your face like you know exactly what I'm talking about."

I spun around, getting my first glance at the beast. "Stiles," I gasped, fearing for the kid's life. He jumped, spinning around and scrambling backwards in an effort to get away from the thing. I was close on his heels, making sure to stay in front of him, ready to fend off an attack at a moment's notice.

"Run!" Derek yelled as the thing attacked, shoving Stiles in the chest, the boy stumbling back a few steps as the alpha ducked into a defensive crouch. I slid into one of my own, my lips curling back to expose my glistening fangs.

"Derek, your neck," Stiles said breathlessly, pointing to the cut just below his hairline. Why would it cut him there? And why so surgically? It seemed like a calculated move, almost too calculated.

"Stiles, get him out of here," I growled as the lizard reared back, exposing it's own set of pointy teeth. The kid rushed forwards, slipping an arm around Derek for support as he started to sag, losing control of his body.

"Where is it?!" Stiles asked worriedly, struggling to pull a quickly deteriorating Derek across the room, avoiding the pools of water.

"I've got eyes on it," I said, meeting it's yellow, reptilian gaze. It suddenly darted to the left, and I was shocked to see how fast it moved. I wasn't too worried though, because it still had nothing on me. I didn't want to get too close, however, if it's venom worked on humans and werewolves, who knew the affect it could have on me.

"Call Scott!" Derek urged him as they hurried towards the door.

I heard Stiles scrambling for his phone, then a loud splash as someone hit the water. I spun around, stupidly taking my eyes off the creature, worried Stiles was the one in trouble. I was relieved to see it was only Derek, and moved back into position in front of Stiles. I caught the boy looking between his dropped phone and a drowning Derek. "Don't you dare," I warned him with a hiss, but he didn't listen, diving face first into the water.

I huffed, watching the creature from the corner of my eyes while I made sure the kid could at least swim. Once he and a barely conscious Derek broke the surface, I knew I was safe to go back to fighting this thing. I was just about to throw a punch when I felt a knick at the back of my neck. I spun around and landed a kick to it's side, sending it flying back a few feet.

"Bad news," I called to Stiles. "I've been cut."

"Oh God," he moaned, sounding on the verge of a panic attack. "Whatever you do don't fall in the water."

I stared back at the thing as it righted itself, hissing at me warningly. "I don't need air to survive, so that won't be a problem," I called back to him before letting out a feral snarl, making the creature flinch back. A smirk spread across my lips and I took a step forwards, preparing to attack, only to spin around in alarm when I heard the sound of somebody choking on water.

I was relieved, once again, to discover that it was only Derek, and not the more important boy bobbing in the pool.

By the time I'd turned back around, the giant lizard was gone. It had one hell of a stealth ability if it could slip away without my knowledge.

"Where is it? Do you see it?"

"No."

"Maybe it took off."

I shushed the floating boys, tilting my head to listen in to the sound of an animalistic roar as it echoed around the room.

"Can you get me out of here before I drown?" Derek grumbled from behind me.

"You're worried about drowning?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor sharp teeth?"

"Did you notice that I'm paralysed from the neck down in eight feet of water?!" he shouted back irritably. I didn't have the time to roll my eyes outwardly, but I sure as hell did on the inside.

With a tired huff Stiles began to drag the wolf through the water towards the edge. "Stop!" I yelled in a panic as the creature appeared in my vision, stalking around the edge of the pool.

"What's it waiting for?" I ignored Stiles' question, whether it was aimed at me or not. I dipped lower into my defensive crouch, watching it carefully. "Jules!" he yelled. "Don't attack it unless it attacks you!"

I straightened, however reluctantly.

"Shouldn't you be paralysed by now?!" he asked, and I absently clenched my hands into fists and wiggled my toes.

"Everything's working just fine," I shouted back, weight shifting from foot to foot in eager anticipation of a fight.

We watched as the lizard approached the edge of the pool, dipping a foot in the water before flinching back and scurrying away from the edge.

"I don't think it can swim," Stiles said in shock. The creature snarled, suddenly rearing forward, heading right for me, a thirst for blood in it's eyes that I was all too familiar with. "Jules, get in the water," he ordered, though I took no notice. "Don't try and fight it, who knows what a bite could do to you?!"

Again, I ignored him. "Come on," I hissed with an excited grin, crooking a finger at it. "Closer," I purred, and it roared, beginning to almost gallop towards me. I snarled, eyes turning black and blood red as I ducked it's attack, slipping under it's arm and landing a punch to it's side. It didn't make a sound, merely swinging around and digging it's claws into my arm. I grunted but otherwise didn't react. I managed to kick it hard in the leg, but then it's claws came down across my thigh, and I felt it cut deep, nearly to the bone.

"Juliet!" Stiles yelled desperately as I swung my fist into it's face, making it hiss. "_Please,_" he begged, and for the millionth time I found I simply couldn't deny him.

With an aggravated growl I leapt off the side of the pool, diving into the water, the temperature not bothering me in the slightest. I stayed under the water for a long minute, letting the adrenaline that had flooded my body leave.

Finally I broke the surface, and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. "Dammit Juliet, don't you ever do that again," he growled in a way that wasn't at all frightening.

"Sure," I told him placatingly, shoving my wet hair out of my face and swimming over to his side, taking Derek's weight off of him, holding the paralysed wolf's head above water.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep treading water, Jules," he said breathlessly, clearly struggling to stay afloat. Before I could reply, I noticed his eyes light up with an idea. I followed his gaze, frowning when I saw the phone lying on the side of the pool.

I was about to tell him how foolish and dangerous his plan was, when I felt a serious fatigue wash over me. "Stiles," I said, and my tone of voice gave me away, because Stiles' attention instantly snapped to me.

"Jules?"

"Something's wrong," I told him tiredly, and I glanced to my throbbing arm, where I hadn't noticed it was still bleeding excessively, blood turning the water red. Worse than that was the wound on my thigh, so close to my artery, it was one of the worst possible places I could have been cut. "The venom must...slow...the healing process," I told him stiltedly.

"Oh God, you're losing a lot of blood," he said, swimming over to me and wrapping an arm around my waist. Black spots appeared in my vision. "What happens when a vampire bleeds out?"

"Derek," I said, nodding lethargically to the alpha and completely ignoring his question.

"What?" Stiles asked, struggling to hold me up as I struggled to hold Derek up.

"I can't...hold him," I panted, energy draining quicker than ever. "I'll survive," I murmured weakly. "Just...fish me...out later..."

"No," Stiles snapped, though he did as he was told, grabbing on to Derek's dead weight. "Come on," he urged desperately. "Stay conscious."

Breathing was getting harder. It didn't hurt, bar the aching at my wounds, but rather, it was like I was falling asleep. I reached forwards, just barely able to hear Stiles' racing heart. I pressed a hand to his cheek, forcing my lips into a smile before my eyes slipped shut and I slipped under the water.

* * *

I was floating.

I wondered if I was dead, permanently this time. However, through the haze of the floating feeling, I could feel a dull ache. Slowly it grew, like my veins were on fire. I couldn't move and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even open my eyes.

Blood.

I felt it on my tongue, the warm, rich taste of fresh blood. I could barely swallow, so it merely trickled down my throat. It took an eternity that was really only several moments, before I was able to move again. My hands immediately snapped up to grasp onto whatever body part that was supplying the blood, holding it tightly in fear it would slip away. I began to suck, the blood pooling in my mouth in torrents, so quickly I could barely swallow it all in time. I sighed, my fangs slipping from my gums and digging into the flesh, making even more blood spill out.

Suddenly the source was ripped from me, and my eyes snapped open as I let out a feral, animalistic snarl.

"_Juliet_!" a familiar voice yelled.

Scott.

Stiles.

Friends.

I looked up, horror dawning on me as I peered as a crouched Scott, standing protectively over a doubled over Stiles, gripping his wrist in pain. I coughed, the blood in my system feeling disgusting, the taste it left in my mouth going from sugar to ash. I flipped over, bracing my hands on the cement as I retched, my mind struggling with my body.

Nothing came out, my system refusing to let go of the precious substance.

Finally I still, leaning on my elbows and breathing heavily even though I had no need to. I glanced up, we were still in the pool room, the water still giving off that eery glow that I found so calming.

"Jules?" another voice said as I felt tears sting my eyes. I looked up, catching Stiles' gaze.

He didn't look disgusted, nor did he look terrified. He simply look, worried, as though I hadn't been the one to nearly drain him dry of blood. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, feeling disgusted with myself. I raised a hand to my mouth, wiping away the blood that was still left on my lips, refusing to taste even another drop, no matter how much I might have wanted to.

"Jules-" he began, but I didn't let him finish.

I stumbled to my feet, turning around even as my joints and muscles protested, staggering from the room like a zombie, my body still waking up.

I went through the forest to get home, staying off the roads in case either of the boys were looking for me. I vaguely wondered what happened with the creature, but I didn't have much room in my head to worry about it, my thoughts too occupied with the events that had just happened with Stiles.

Sometimes it was easy to forget what I was, especially when I was surrounded with so many human friends. But the bliss never lasted long, somehow or other I always got reminded of what a monster I truly was.

I left the house dark when I got home, kicking my shoes off at the door and stumbling into the living room. Vampires didn't feel the cold, so I was incredibly confused when I felt myself begin to shiver. I figured it was psychosomatic, but knowing that didn't make it go away. I moved forwards, still so wet I was dripping onto my carpet, and I threw some logs and kindle in the fireplace, lighting it up with a match then plopping in front of it, my arms curled around my knees.

I was all alone, and some days I liked that, other days I didn't. Today? Today I deserved it.

I don't know how long I sat there. It could have been minutes, may have been hours. Either way, the fire was still burning brightly when there was a knock at my front door. I didn't so much as flinch, uncaring that someone was out there. They could wait. Everything could wait.

"Jules," a familiar voice called through the slab of wood, and my gut twisted, my jaw clenched and my heart dropped into my stomach. "Jules, come on!"

It was silent for a few moments, then the sound of the handle squeaking met my ears as somebody turned it. I cursed myself for leaving it unlocked, but I hadn't thought anybody would come looking for me, not after tonight.

Stiles padded into the room after kicking his shoes off at the door, moving around the couch and coming to a stop beside me. I didn't look away from the flames, watching them dance across the wood in the fireplace.

"Hey," he said, the word falling flat. I'd expected the atmosphere to change, become more tense or something, instead I just continued to feel hollow and numb. After a long minute of silence he sat down beside me, his legs folding in front of him as he too watched the flames.

I made the mistake of breathing in, instantly smelling the dried blood clinging to his skin. I couldn't resist a glance down to observe the damage. Someone had patched it up; wrapped a bandage around the wound, but not done much else. He'd still bled through the thin cloth, a large red mark staining the white fabric. I winced, the sight only depressing me further. I pressed my chin to my knees, returning my gaze to the fire.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry."

I blinked, not having been expecting that sentence to come out of his mouth. "You don't have anything to apologise for," I replied after a beat, my voice barely audible to his dull human hearing.

He, also, wasn't expecting me to say that. "Aren't you angry with me for making you break your feeding rule?" he asked confusedly, and my chest constricted in pain. He thought I was mad at _him_?

"Of course not," I told him, my tone coming out a little harsher than intended. His heart jumped but quickly calmed again. I sighed, burying my head into the crook of my arm and squeezing my eyes shut tightly. "I should be apologising to you," I muttered softly, listening to the sound of his breathing, hoping it would help centre me.

"What for?" He sounded genuinely confused.

"What _for?_" I asked incredulously, swinging around to face him properly, meeting his eyes for the first time since he'd arrived, trying not to get distracted by the way they turned into pools of melted caramel in the firelight.

"I knew what I was doing when I put my bleeding wrist to your lips, Jules," he said in a much calmer tone, like he was simply talking about tomorrow's weather forecast. "So what if you bit me? You got a bit carried away. You should see me with curly fries; man, you just _cannot_ pull me away."

"This isn't a joke, Stiles," I grumbled, refusing to let him lighten the mood.

"I know," he nodded, shuffling even closer to me so out shoulders brushed. "Look, I'm fine. Really, I feel a bit tired, but that's probably just because I was treading water for so long." I was quiet, not sure what he wanted me to say. "I meant what I said, I'm not going to apologise. If I had to do tonight over again, I'd still choose to save you."

I didn't have a good response. Not one that wouldn't scare him, anyway. So I pushed myself to my feet, moving to the window. I heard Stiles sigh in defeat, and despite myself my lips quirked up at the corners. "Have you ever listened to _Kind of Blue?_" I asked softly, slipping the record out from it's spot on my shelves and moving over to my turntable. "Miles Davis?"

I heard his heart speed up, and he took a deep breath to try and steady it, failing miserably.

"It's a good album," I told him, flicking the switch and sighing as the soft jazz filled the room. "One of my favourites from the 50s."

I moved back across the carpet until I came to a stop beside him, hesitating only a moment before slipping back down to his level, curling up beside him. He was forcing his breath to stay even, but it was obvious he was struggling. I smiled gently, turning back to face the fire and closing my eyes, listening to the music. I felt Stiles' eyes on me as I began to hum along, but I paid him no mind.

I did a terrible thing, biting Stiles, even if it was to heal myself. I wasn't even aware who I'd been feeding from, and I dread to think about what might have happened had I known. Would I have kept going, or would I have stopped sooner.

I fluttered an eye open and peeked at Stiles, who continued to watch me with a dazed look on his face. "This part's my favourite," I whispered, closing my eyes again and nodding my head along with the music as it crescendoed.

We must have looked a sight, sitting in front of a dying fire as we listened to the music, both still in our damp clothes, lost in our own thoughts.

I felt at piece, and I realised that, despite everything, I was happy. This boy and his loud presence made me happy. And I never wanted to be without him.

* * *

**A/N: Bit of a long one, but I have a feeling you guys don't mind :) Let me know what you thought!**


	19. The Edge

_With each step I hold my breath_

_And I'm tangled in your spiderwebs_

_How could, how could I fall_

_And I wonder if you ever cared at all_

The Edge – Tonight Alive

* * *

"Hey beautiful."

I glanced up, eyeing the person attached to the shadow that had fallen over me. I took a drag from my cigarette, blowing the smoke from the corner of my mouth. "Aren't you a fugitive?" I asked, crossing one leg over the other and raising an eyebrow at the blonde wolf.

"Haven't you heard?" he asked cheerily, a brilliant smirk aimed down at me. "Jackson redacted his statement. I'm a free man...well, I say man, but we both know I'm not just a man. I'm a-"

"Are you trying to tell me you're having a gender identity crisis?" I asked innocently, flicking the ash from the tip of my smoke. "Because I've gotta tell you, I'm not the person you should come to with that sort of thing."

Isaac shot me an irritated look, unimpressed by the smirk I sent him. "Do you know who the kanima is?"

It was a fair enough question, and one I was happy to answer. "No," I shrugged, recalling earlier this morning when Stiles had driven us both to this hell hole, telling me all about how they'd figured out it was a kanima, now all they had to do was find out who it was.

I'd been around a while, and in all that time I'd definitely heard the word kanima muttered between shady people and hunters. I'd never seen one, but I knew what they were, and I felt stupid for not putting it together sooner.

"Two hundred years of knowledge and experience and all you can spare is a shrug?" Isaac growled, glaring down at me and pulling me from my thoughts/

"I said 'no' too," I pointed out, and, really, how much clearer could I be?

He looked annoyed by my response, but quickly covered the irritated expression with a smirk.

The bell rang and I used the distraction to slide to my feet, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. "I'd _love_ to stay and chat, but I really should be getting to class," I told him lightly, breezing passed him, around the corner before he could argue.

I made my way through the school to my locker, swapping out the textbooks I needed for the next class. I considered skipping it, but decided what with grandfather-Argent lurking around it was in my best interest to keep my toes firmly in line.

"We have a serious problem," Stiles exclaimed as he came to a clumsy stop beside me. I shoved the textbook in my hands into the depths of my locker, casting him a sidelong glance. "So Derek and his cult tested Jackson with the kanima venom and he didn't pass the test – obviously – so now they're looking for another suspect and guess who's at the top of their list?! _Lydia_!"

I was silent as though waiting for a punchline. None came. "Oh," I said lamely, and the kid flailed, not happy with my response.

"Oh? _Oh_?!" I continued to stare at him blankly, letting the metal door to my locker swing shut, hearing it lock into place before leaning my shoulder against it, cocking my head at the short haired kid. "We have to _do_ something."

"Like what?" I asked, "I'm not watching her every minute of every day, waiting for them to make a move. I've got better things to do."

"What, like reading a book you've already read a billion times before?" he snapped, and I frowned at him. He immediately winced, but didn't take back his statement. "Listen, this is _importan_t."

"Look," I began seriously. "Is she the kanima?"

"No," he said instantly and with conviction.

"Well then what's the problem?" He didn't look convinced. "Worst case scenario? They test her, she ends up paralysed for an hour, then she goes on with her life."

"...But what if it _is _her?"

I shot him a look, "You just said it isn't."

"Yeah, but on the off and almost impossible chance that I'm wrong," he huffed. "What if it is?"

I hesitated. He wouldn't like my answer, but since when should that dictate what I said? "Then the problem will be dealt with and no more innocents will die at the kanima's hands," I told him simply, gut tightening when he winced like my response pained him.

He was silent for a long time, but I left him to his thoughts, waiting quietly for him to gather himself. "Would you please just help me protect her?" he finally pleaded, pulling out those large puppy dog eyes. "Just for today? We'll figure out the rest later."

I wanted to say no, I really did. And I felt weak when I found that I couldn't. "Just for today," I agreed carefully, and he lit up with happiness. I couldn't help the way my own features brightened to match until I was grinning up at him, green eyes meeting brown.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by his best friend slapping him on the back lightly, "You okay man?" he asked innocently. "Your heart's beating, like, _really_ fast."

Stiles coughed into his fist as I slipped my indifferent mask back into place. "I'm just," he floundered, and both of us raised eyebrows at him expectantly. "Just worried about Lydia."

I grimaced at his words, already regretting the promise I'd made. "Derek is not going to kill her without proof," Scott assured him quietly as he led the way into the chemistry classroom, to ensure he wouldn't be overheard.

"Right, so he tests her like he did with Jackson, but when and where?"

The back of my neck prickled and my head snapped up, meeting a familiar sky blue gaze on the other side of the room. "I think here and now," the original teen wolf said, also catching sight of the pair of betas that had entered the room.

The next moment everyone was racing forwards, trying to be the first one to get to an oblivious Lydia as she sat idly flicking through the textbook. Thankfully Scott and Stiles got there first, slipping into seats on either side of the redhead, the girl raising an eyebrow but otherwise staying silent.

Erica and Isaac took seats behind the group, and I made a point to elbow the blonde girl in the face as I passed, sliding into the empty seat to the left of Scott, leaving a space open for Allison once the girl slipped into the room, casting confused glances at everyone, clearly feeling the tension.

I filled the black haired beauty in on the situation silently, scribbling some key words down on a blank sheet of paper in front of us. She nodded, heart hammering in her chest, though her fear didn't show on her face. I ignored the teacher's monologue, instead focusing on sketching a moon on my paper. He must have said something significant, because every hand in the room – except from those in my little posse – suddenly shot up. I looked up, raising an eyebrow at the room. "Put your hormonal little hands down," Harris sneered. "We'll start with McCall."

Allison slid across the row the second she was able, perching herself on the seat beside her best friend. I stayed where I was, no interest in moving tables. A warm body slid into place beside me, and my lips automatically tipped upwards into a smile at Stiles.

"You have to get to Lydia next," he murmured from the corner of his mouth. "You'll have the best chance at protecting her if they make a move." I nodded my head, nose crinkling at the thought of defending the vapid redhead. I returned to my rough sketching, ignoring Stiles' annoyed glance. "You could at least_ pretend_ to help me," he said as he poured a vial of blue chemical into a beaker, and I smirked at his irritation.

We were silent for a moment, and though I looked distracted, my attention was, as usual, on the kid beside me. He looked over his shoulder, back suddenly straightening. "What?" I asked immediately, more worried than I'd admit.

"Lahey," he spat back under his breath, tone filled with contempt.

"I wasn't aware you had a such problem with him," I whispered back, dropping my pen and picking up a small vial of purple liquid as swirling it around idly.

Stiles was quiet for a moment, then spoke up, surprising me completely, "I just don't like the way he looks at you."

Before I had a chance to ask the several questions floating around in my head, Harris called out to the class, telling us to switch. Stiles sighed, putting down his own beaker and pushing himself to his feet.

I was still staring at him when my new partner slid into place beside me. I glanced over at Greenberg, irritation clearly spread across my features. Luckily neither of Derek's beta's had gotten to Lydia, and I felt guilty for not slipping in beside her instantly. "Hey there," Greenberg said, probably trying to sound smooth.

"Don't talk to me," I commanded him with a glance, and his lips sealed shut.

"..._Juliet. Don't like the way I look at her, huh?_" Isaac's voice met my ears, grabbing my attention when I caught my name, and I cocked my head, focusing in on his conversation with Stiles while I sat back, allowing the greasy haired teen beside me to do all the work. To his credit, Stiles didn't respond, instead all I heard was the sound of glass jars clinking against each other and liquid being poured from one vial to the next. "_Is it because you can tell that I'm undressing her with my eyes?_"

I knew the kid wouldn't be able to hold his tongue for long, and a moment later he snapped, "_Doesn't it go against your very _nature_? Break some kind of unspoken rule? As far as I've heard, vampires and werewolves don't mix_."

I could hear the smirk in the beta's voice as he replied, "_Something tells me Juliet likes to break the rules._" They were quiet for a stretch, and I felt eyes on me, so I pretended to be focused on scribbling pointlessly on my notebook. "_What does it matter to you anyway_?" Isaac spoke up, cocky tone still very much in place. "_It's not like she's yours. It's not like she ever _will _be._"

Stiles' heart hammered away in his chest, so fast to the point where I was worried about his health. Before I could interject, do something to calm him down, Harris called for another swap. I happily shoved Greenberg out of his chair, gaze sliding across to Stiles, who was alone now, staring angrily at the wood of his bench.

I felt like I should say something, but I was more confused than ever.

A kid I didn't know sat down on the chair, smiled politely and held out a hand to me. "Hi," he greeted me. "I'm Alex..." he trailed off awkwardly when all he was met with was a stony glare. After a moment he turned back to the project, clearing his throat uncomfortably. I was too caught up in my thoughts to pay any attention.

"Time!" Harris shouted suddenly and the dull chatter of the room fell silent. "If you've catalysed the reaction correctly, you should now be looking at a crystal. Now, for the part of that last experiment I'm sure you'll all enjoy – you can eat it."

I pushed the container towards the guy next to me, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped at the frown on my face. There was a beat, then, "_Lydia_!"

Everyone turned to stare at Scott, who was awkwardly leaned over his bench, staring in panic at the redhead.

"What?" the girl hissed, frowning heavily at the wolf.

He glanced around the room, and I subtly shook my head at him when his eyes met mine. "Nothing," he mumbled, dropping back onto his stool and clearing his throat. Lydia rolled her eyes, moving forwards and taking a bite of the newly formed crystal that was more than likely dipped in kanima venom. My theory was confirmed when I glanced out of the window, catching sight of a staring Derek, eyes watching Lydia like the hawk.

A warning growl slipped passed my lips, making the guy next to me jump in fright, heart hammering in his chest as he stared at me like he was wondering whether I should be heavily medicated. Derek's sharp ears picked the sound up, and his green gaze slid to meet my darker shade. He didn't smile smugly like I'd assumed he would when there was no reaction from Lydia other than a grimace at the taste, instead he looked nearly regretful.

I couldn't deny the facts.

The venom hadn't done anything to her, and that could only mean one thing: she was the kanima.

No matter how I felt, she had to be stopped before anyone else died, but I sure as hell wouldn't be the one to end her, not if it meant Stiles would hate me forever. So even though I knew it was morally the wrong decision, I swore to the stars that I would do whatever it took to save the strawberry blonde if it meant Stiles wouldn't ever leave me.

* * *

I had snuck outside for a quick smoke break, perching on one of the tables and glaring at anyone who came too close, when Scott approached me, one of the only people in the school who could do so without risking bodily harm. "You're staying with Lydia to protect her from any attacks by Derek or the others," he told me seriously, and I arched a brow at him, displeased with his command.

"When was this decided?" I asked him snidely, blowing smoke from the corner of my lips.

"Just now."

"Why should I?"

"Could you please just do it? If not for Lydia, then for me?" I was silent. "Fine, for Stiles?" I was still silent, refusing to be manipulated into anything. "Look, he's watching her right now, but if one of Derek's betas makes a move, you know he'll just get hurt in the crossfire."

I grit my teeth in annoyance before sucking in another lungful of chemicals and fixing him with a dark look. "I'll do it," I told him reluctantly, crushing the cigarette in my hand and dropping it on the grass. "But because I want to, not because you asked."

"Thank you," he breathed in what appeared to be genuine gratefulness, spinning around and heading for the field.

I grunted in reply, but he took no notice. With a huff I swung the strap of my bag over my shoulder and headed for the entrance of the school.

It wasn't difficult to find Stiles, it was almost instinct to seek out his scent, following it through the school until I eventually met up with him in a hall on the west side of the building. "Oh good," he said in what sounded like relief as I walked up to him, glancing coldly at an annoyed looking Lydia. "You're here."

"Why do you need her again?" the redhead asked sharply, eyeing my leather pants and combat boots with distaste.

"She's here to help," he replied vaguely, and she looked less than pleased with the response.

"Whatever," she chirped, flipping her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder as she spun around, moving down the hall. "Are we going to study or what?"

Of course, Stiles scurried after her. Rolling my eyes, I followed the pair, keeping an eye out for any sign of the alpha or his betas. It was a good enough cover, to study, but she still looked somewhat skeptical, or perhaps it was reluctance I was seeing. Stiles led the way through the school, eventually ending up at the library doors. He pushed through, waiting to let Lydia in first. The girl strode in, head held high. Stiles followed like a puppy, trying to smoothly touch her arm only to be shrugged off with an irritated glare. She walked through to the back of the library, where Allison stood with Jackson, trying to look inconspicuous as they flicked through encyclopaedias.

"Well?" Lydia asked them, eyes trained suspiciously on Allison, clearly avoiding her ex's gaze. "Did you want to start with Biology or English?" she questioned tartly, putting down her handbag and reaching for one of her textbooks.

"Uh," Stiles responded dumbly, blinking at her before switching his gaze to scanning the room. "We have to go this way," he said finally, grabbing onto her elbow and pulling her in the direction of the fire exit.

"What?" she asked confusedly. "We can't go out that door, the alarm will go off."

My hand snapped out, fist slamming into the small alarm system attached to the side of the door. There was a quiet beep before the light flickered out.

"First smoking in the bathroom, now destroying school property?" she asked, uncaring that someone my size had managed to do something like that, and reminding me of that day she'd caught me puffing at the sink in the top floor bathroom. "Well aren't you just a regular little Wednesday Adams?"

I froze at the name. Rationally I knew she didn't know anything, how the hell could she? Nobody here knew that name, and nobody ever would. Nonetheless I forced a smug smirk onto my lips, hoping no one had noticed me falter. "Thank you," I said, my voice overflowing with sincerity. She cringed unhappily at me as Jackson tugged open the door, Stiles dragging her out into the hall.

"If we're doing a study group, why didn't we just stay in the library?" she asked, roughly yanking her arm from Stiles' grip.

"Because we're meeting up with somebody else," he told her unconvincingly.

"Why don't they just meet us at the library?"

"_Oh_!" he exclaimed theatrically. "That would have been a great idea!" he placed an arm over her shoulders, acting so casual it was painful. "Too late!"

"Okay, hold on-"

"Lydia, shut up and walk," Jackson snapped, carelessly interrupting her as he grabbed her roughly, shoving her further forwards and towards the main exit of the school. We pushed our way into the gloomy light of the cloudy day, making a beeline for the familiar blue Jeep. Jackson's face scrunched in disgust at the thought of getting in, but under the harsh glare I sent him he changed his attitude, gulping and sliding into the backseat with an exasperated Lydia, Allison squeezing herself in beside her best friend while I took the front seat beside Stiles.

"Where are we going?" the redhead asked with a frown as Stiles steered us out of the parking lot.

"Scott's place," Allison supplied truthfully.

"But-"

This time I was the one to stop her, spinning around in my seat to shoot her my most lethal glare. Her heart sped up in fear, but to her credit she merely glared back. It worked though, she fell silent. I turned back around and smirked. Hanging out with Stiles as often as I had, I was beginning to forget what it felt like to really scare someone, because no matter what I did (biting into his wrist and drinking his blood included) I couldn't seem to make him fear me.

That both pleased and irritated me.

"If we're studying at Scott's house, then where's Scott?" Lydia asked suspiciously after the rest of the silent ride once we'd pulled to a stop outside of the wolf's house.

"He's meeting us here," Stiles supplied with a forced smile. "I think..." he frowned, "I hope."

I ignored Allison and Jackson mumbling behind me, watching instead as Stiles pulled out the spare key he had to Scott's house, slipping it into the lock and pushing open the door, all but shoving Lydia inside. She glared at him as we all piled into the entryway, but he took no notice as he spun around, shutting the door and locking it every way possible, then glancing out the window to be sure we hadn't been followed.

"Uh, there's been a few break ins around the neighbourhood," he told her unconvincingly when he caught her suspicious look. I made a mental note to teach him how to lie better. He glanced around, darting across the room suddenly, taking a lone chair from the corner and shoving it under the handle. It wouldn't keep a werewolf out, but if it made him feel safer then who was I to tell him differently? "And a murder."

"Lydia, follow me," Jackson said suddenly, and I pulled my gaze away from Stiles, barely having realised I'd been staring. "I need to talk to you for a minute."

"Seriously?" the beautiful girl huffed, heels clicking on the wood floors as she strode after her ex-boyfriend. "What is going on with everyone?"

They made their way up the stairs, and while part of me thought it was best to keep an ear on them, I found I couldn't be bothered once Stiles began talking. "Okay, what's the plan?"

"Good question," I replied with a frown. "They're going to find us eventually, and we won't be able to keep them out long."

"Yeah, it's not like they need an invitation, like _some_ people we know," he said slyly, and for a split second the mood lightened before crashing back over us like a wave.

"You don't happen to carry any wolfsbane on you, huh?" I asked him, knowing it was a long shot. His heart stuttered, making me frown at the unexpected reaction. "What?" I asked instantly, brow furrowing at I stared at him in question. His heart continued to race. "Stiles? Do you have wolfsbane on you or not?" He didn't reply, acting as though he hadn't heard me, moving the curtain back and peering out the rapidly darkening street. "What are you hiding?"

It pained me to ask, but I had to know.

He sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose for a moment before they moved to a thin piece of cord wrapped around his neck that I hadn't taken the time to notice. "It's not wolfsbane..." he trailed off, and I stared in confusion for a moment before it clicked.

"You're wearing vervain."

It probably shouldn't have been such a surprise, but nonetheless it was like I'd been punched in the stomach. I sucked a sharp breath in through my teeth, and the kid winced, clearly not having wanted me to find out. I couldn't blame him, I wouldn't have trusted me either after what happened the other night at the pool. I couldn't be mad, even though I _really_ wanted to be. If anything, I was just disappointed. Not at him – never at him – just at myself.

"Look, I'm sorry-" he began.

"Don't apologise," I snapped, instantly regretting it when he winced.

"Guys?" Allison spoke up, surprising me since I'd forgotten she was even there. "We have a problem."

I tore my eyes away from Stiles, glancing at her questioningly. She was leaning against the window, peering through the gap in the curtain at something in the darkness. I stepped around Stiles, pushing the thin curtain back to glance out into the street.

Derek stood on the curb, his group of merry betas standing to his left. "Call Scott," I instructed the raven haired beauty next to me in a quiet voice. "Now." My priorities had changed instantly, no longer was I caught up in the whirlwind of stinging emotions I'd been feeling moments before, now I was in pure survival mode, my only conscious thought was to get these kids out of here safely. Every last one of them. Even Jackson.

I stepped back, rolling my neck and stretching my fingers, preparing for a fight.

"No."

I glanced back at Stiles with a frown, confused.

"You're not going out there," he said strongly. "You're not going to fight them all alone. There's no way you'll win."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I grumbled, but he paid me no mind.

"Just, stay here," he instructed, though it didn't feel like a command. "Please." Before I could form a reply, he peeked at Allison, brow furrowing when he caught sight of her phone. "What are you doing?"

"I think-I think I have to call my dad," she mumbled unconfidently, and I immediately spun around, fixing her with a serious glare.

"But if he finds you here...you and Scott-"

"I know." It was quiet for a moment as the two friends shared a significant look. "What are we supposed to do? They're not here to _scare_ us, they're here to _kill _Lydia."

"No one's going to kill Lydia," I told her, hands clenching into fists. "I may not be able to stop them all, but I sure as hell can stop them from getting to her. Worse case scenario? I take her and run, they'll never catch up to me."

She didn't say anything for a long moment, considering my words. "How do we know you'll risk yourself like that?" she asked through the darkness of the house, squinting as she tried to see me while I stared at her with perfect clarity. "You don't even like Lydia."

I couldn't admit the real reason, of course. That it was for Stiles. It would just make me look pathetic, so instead of answering I went back to glaring through the thin material of the curtains at the shapes of the wolves outside. Something about what happened must have been enough for her, because she put her phone back into her pocket, pulling a crossbow from her bag and holding it at her side.

"I got an idea."

We both looked to Stiles, eyebrows raised.

"Shoot one of them."

"Are you serious?" she whispered back.

"We told Scott we could protect ourselves, so let's do it. Or at least give it a shot, right?" he said, and I couldn't help but be proud. "Look, at the very least it'll distract them long enough for Jules to get a few good hits in," he told her, glancing at me with a frown that contradicted his hopeful words.

"Okay," Allison breathed shakily, peering out into the night.

"Look, they don't think we're going to fight. One of them gets taken down by either your arrow or Juliet's fist? I guarantee they'll take off."

She sucked in a deep breath, probably to try and calm herself. "Which one?" she asked weakly.

"Uh," he hummed, bouncing on the tips of his toes. "Derek. Yeah, shoot Derek. Preferably in the head."

"If Scott was able to catch an arrow, then Derek definitely can," she responded logically.

"Okay, just shoot one of the other three then."

"You mean two?"

"I mean three," he darted to the window I was stood beside, both of us staring out at the pack. "Where the hell is Isaac?" he hissed, and I cursed myself for not paying enough attention.

Footsteps on the wood floors met my ears, and instantly I shoved Stiles to the side, spinning around and catching Isaac's fist in my hand. My face changed in one smooth movement, fangs sliding free and inky black veins winding up my cheeks. Isaac tried to hit me again, but I blocked the hit.

Stiles stumbled, turning around and preparing to help me fight the beta. "Stay back," I yelled to him desperately, slipping around the wolf's side and landing a strong kick to the small of his back that made something crack. He didn't want to listen, grabbing a lamp and raising it above his head, preparing to hit Isaac over the head. The beta ducked out of the way, making Stiles over swing and trip forwards. I was forced to catch the kid, preventing him from breaking a bone.

Isaac used the distraction to his advantage, landing a punch to this side of my face. I took the hit easily, pushing Stiles back a few steps and glaring at the wolf.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to hit girls?" I asked, goading him and flashing my glistening fangs, his eyes glowing amber in response.

"I'll be sure not to if I see one," he responded, and I couldn't help the humoured smirk that stretched across my lips. Fast as lightening my leg snapped out, hard sole of my boot slamming into his chest. He was forced back into the door, the wood creaking under the blow. "Come on," he sneered, gesturing for me to come closer. "I don't bite."

"I do."

My fangs slid into the soft skin of his neck. It was werewolf blood, so while it was slightly appetising – as in, I would drink it if I were starving to death – it was mostly just disgusting, tasting like dirt. Nonetheless I ripped out a large chunk of flesh, blood pouring down his neck. I spat it out in disgust, wiping my blood covered lips with a grimace.

Isaac swayed, hand pressed to his wound. It didn't keep him down for long, he swung a hand, but I ducked it easily. I landed several hits to his gut in quick succession, and he groaned in pain. I expected him to lash out at me, so I was surprised when his hand snapped out and struck Stiles across the face.

Fury bubbled deep within me, and I snarled like a feral cat, disappearing from one end of the room, appearing with Isaac held against the wall by his throat. "You _do not _touch him," I growled, grip around his neck tightening until his face began to turn purple. I watched with barely concealed glee as his eyes began to roll back into his head, gasping desperately for breath.

Without any warning I was pulled off of him, and I wheeled around to hit someone, only to have Scott catch my hand. Isaac crumpled to the ground, unconscious but alive. "Enough," he said softly, and though I didn't agree, I nodded, stepping back and wiping my bloody hands on my jumper.

Stiles clamoured to my side, hands winding around my arm, almost as an afterthought. Scott picked up the passed out Isaac by the scruff, bending down and also picking up what appeared to be a paralysed Erica. He strode to the door, Allison appearing and opening it for him, and we watched as he threw the betas at their alpha's feet.

"I think I'm finally getting why you keep refusing me, Scott," Derek said, not appearing to be fazed by our thwarting of his plans for murder. "You're not an omega. You're an alpha, of your own pack." It was silent as Allison and Stiles exchanged glances, Scott and I keeping our gazes fixed on the alpha on the lawn. "But you know you can't beat me."

"We can hold you off until the cops get here."

Derek cocked his head, finally realising that blaring in the distance was the sound of police cars on their way to our location. He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped himself when we all heard a reptilian hiss from above us. Everyone's gaze shot to the upper level of the house, peering through the darkness at the kanima as it slithered along the awnings, glaring down at us with dark, familiar eyes.

"Get them out of here," Derek instructed his remaining conscious beta.

"Would someone please tell me what the _hell_ is going on?!" a furious Lydia demanded, appearing in the doorway, glaring at everyone on the grass with angry, watering eyes. It wasn't her.

It was Jackson.

"Get them away!" Derek commanded Boyd sharply. "You," he growled, grabbing my arm and all but ripping me away from Stiles. "I need your speed," he said hurriedly. I wanted to argue, but he had a point, no matter how much I wanted to say no. I reached out and squeezed Stiles' hand once before disappearing from view with Derek, our only priority to catch the kanima before it could do any more damage.

**A/N: Kind of a shorter chapter, hope you guys liked it anyway, I promise the next one is super long. And if you're reading from Australia, I'm uploading this in the Origin half-time, and my boys are four points behind, so shoot me and my Maroon Toads some good vibes!**


	20. House Of Wolves

_You better run like the devil,_

_'Cause they're never gonna leave you alone!_

_You better hide up in the alley,_

_'Cause they're never gonna find you a home!_

_And as the blood runs down the walls,_

_You see me creepin' up these halls._

_I've been a bad motherfucker_

_Tell your sister I'm another_

House Of Wolves – My Chemical Romance

* * *

Our feet hitting the pavement and Derek's heaving pants were the only sounds I could hear as we raced through the streets after Jackson. I was plenty ahead of the alpha, but not quite up with the kanima. The last thing I wanted was to get into a fight alone, especially one I wasn't sure I could win.

I watched as it climbed a fence, slipping into an industrial lot. I didn't pause for a second, grabbing onto the metal mesh and hoisting myself over it. I hit the ground running, listening distractedly as Derek also catapulted himself over the fence.

I decided it was time to stop playing tag.

I sped up, slipping around so I stood in front of the kanima, a vicious snarl escaping my lips. It screeched back, exposing rows and rows of glistening, pointy white teeth. I ran at it, slamming into it and sending it flying back into a concrete column. In moments Derek was at my side, landing a hit to it's slimy face. It snarled but the alpha wasn't fazed, merely spin kicking it onto it's ass. I was impressed, but refused to show it, dodging an attack and landing a kick of my own to it's spine – if it even had one.

It flipped back into an upright position, and Derek picked up an old, discarded piece of metal, holding it up as a shield which the kanima continued to hit, sparks flying off where it's nails connected with the dulled material. I grabbed it around the neck, pulling it back and then slamming it's face into the column behind Derek, who darted out of the way just in time. I dropped it, letting it collapse to the ground, momentarily stunned.

I slid back into place on the other side of it, prepared to end this. Before either Derek or I could make a move, it was climbing up the column beside us. We snarled at it as it sneered down at us, almost taunting us. It seemed like something that Jackson prick would do.

Suddenly the area exploded with blinding sparks, and the kanima fell from it's place, landing with a dull thud on the pavement. Gunshots sounded, and we spun around to glare at papa-Argent, who'd appeared, gun in hand as he shot at the creature.

Derek and I had the same idea: to get the hell out of there.

We ran in opposite directions, but I couldn't have cared less. I hoisted myself over the fence again, this time coming to a dead stop when I saw a familiar looking Jeep parked on the other side, a familiar kid gaping at me through the windscreen.

I rolled my eyes and slipped into the passenger seat, hissing, "Turn off your damn lights." Stiles did as he was told, bright headlights flickering off. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Scott and I couldn't let you do this alone," he murmured back, sitting straighter in his seat, trying to see what was happening beyond the fence.

"I managed two hundred years without you, Stiles," I snapped, the hurt from earlier resurfacing as I looked at him again. "I'll manage two hundred after you're gone, too." He winced like he'd been struck, and part of me wished I could take it back. I didn't though, staying firm and scowling out the window.

"I guess I never thought of it that way," he said thoughtfully, tone hollow. I didn't look at him, continuing to watch the darkness outside, watching for any hint of anyone, making sure the hunters didn't come close enough to realise Stiles was involved. "I sometimes forget you're not normal; that you'll be here forever."

I spotted Scott jogging through the darkness, heading for the corner on the other side of the road. "Come on," I said before I could change my mind, not in the mood for chick-flick moments or anything of the sort. "We need to catch up with Scott."

I clicked open the door, jumping to the ground and slamming it shut behind me, listening as Stiles did the same.

"Keep to the shadows," I told him lightly, refusing to meet his eyes and instead focusing on keeping an eye on the hunters on the edge of the lot. We walked around the area, making sure we didn't step into the light. By the third time Stiles had tripped over a cinderblock I'd had enough, pushing away any irritation I might have had and reaching down to grasp his hand in my own. I held his hand, pulling him along a safe path, ensuring he wouldn't trip and hurt himself. His heart sped up in his chest, and after a moment his fingers intertwined with my own. His palm was slightly sweaty, but I made no comment on it, or his racing heart.

Finally we made it through to the corner, slipping around onto the street and making our way towards the direction Scott had fled. I didn't take my hand from his, but neither of us said anything, and I was happy to keep it that way. I led him towards where the beta's scent was emanating from: a corner he was crouched behind, staring at the entrance to a club.

Stiles reached forwards first, tapping him on the back with the hand not clutched to my own, making the distracted wolf practically jump out of his skin. He pressed a hand over his heart, whirling around to glare at the pair of us. "Sorry, sorry," Stiles hissed apologetically, stepping back, giving the beta his space. "Did you see where he went?"

"I lost him."

"What? You couldn't catch his scent?"

"I don't think he has one," Scott responded dubiously.

"Well, then how are we supposed to know what the hell he's doing?" I asked sharply, glancing around the corner at the lineup of people.

"Planning to kill someone."

"Oh," Stiles chirped with false brightness. "That explains the claws and the fangs and all that. Good, makes perfect sense now." Scott shot his best friend an unimpressed glare that held no real bite to it. "What, Scott? Come on, I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone; sarcasm is my _only _defence," he threw both hands in the air, and since ours were connected, mine went up with him, shoving our intertwined fingers in the beta's face.

He frowned, taking a moment to process what he'd just seen. He looked between Stiles and I with a thoughtful frown. "Are you guys holding hands?" he asked, cocking his head at an angle much like an actual dog. Instantly Stiles dropped my hand like it had burned him, going as far as to take a step away from me, his cheeks covered with embarrassed red blotches. "Whatever," Scott sighed, deciding there were more important things to be focused on, but no doubt storing the information away for later. "Just help me find it."

"Not _it_," Stiles corrected, shoving his hands into his pockets. I noticed that, although I couldn't feel the cold, my hands felt particularly numb and cool without his warm skin pressed to mine. "_Jackson_."

"I know," Scott breathed, glancing at the line of people around the corner, "I know."

"The real question is, does _he_ know it?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes down the street.

"And did anybody else see him back at your house?" Stiles jumped in.

"I mean, I don't think so. But he already passed Derek's test anyway."

"Yeah, but that's just the thing," he said with a confused frown. "How _did _he pass the test?"

"I don't know," Scott replied, before snapping his head around to peer at me through the darkness. "Do you know?"

"Why would I know?" I asked with genuine confusion.

"Uh, let's see," Stiles began sarcastically, and I sighed internally, preparing for his rant. "Maybe because Scott's only been a part of the supernatural community for a few short months while you have nearly two hundred years under your belt?"

I rolled my eyes and bit my tongue to prevent myself from sassing him back. It wouldn't help matters. "I'm not all-knowing," I told him calmly, tapping my fingers in an uneven beat against my arm.

"Well, do you think it's like an either-or thing?" he asked, changing tactics. "Derek said a snake can't be poisoned by it's own venom, right? When's the kanima _not _the kanima?"

There was a beat. "When it's Jackson."

It irked me that these two teenage boys had managed to put it together before me, but I let go of my annoyance almost instantly, it helped nobody. I heard the creaking of metal from above me and glanced up, eyes narrowing at the sight of the kanima crawling through a window. "Guys," I hissed, tapping Stiles on the arm.

He looked up, alarmed, then followed my gaze. Scott caught on after a long moment, doing the same. "You see that?" Stiles asked his friend, peering up at the disappearing tail.

"He's inside," Scott pointed out needlessly.

"What's he going to do in there?"

It was quiet for a moment as we contemplated his question, then Scott exclaimed, "I know who he's after."

"What? How? Did you smell something?"

"Armani."

We stared at the teen wolf blankly, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Danny," he explained, looking frustrated when we didn't immediately understand. "Danny wears Armani cologne, and I just saw him going inside. Who else could Jackson be going after?"

"Why would he go after his best friend?" Stiles asked.

"I don't know," he replied frantically. "But we have to stop him." He paused, glancing around the small alleyway we were couped in. "How the hell are we going to get in? Is there like, a window we can go through or something..."

"Uh..." Stiles trailed, pointing obviously at me.

I rolled my eyes once more. "Oh sure, go right ahead and volunteer me," I drawled sardonically, and Stiles huffed at me, clearly less than pleased with my attitude.

"Will you compel the bouncer or not?" he asked directly.

I wanted to say no just to spite him, but I decided that was too much of a dick move. "Fine," I grumbled. I'd do it, but I didn't have to be happy about it. I strode forwards, head held high, my usual walk transforming in an instant to the confident, self-assured one I used when pretending to be physically older than I was.

Scott and Stiles scrambled after me, staying close behind me as I padded up to the large, scowling bouncer. "Back of the line, sweetheart," he said gruffly.

"No," I said flatly, making his eyes snap to me. As soon as his baby blues met my emerald green, he was gone. His expression dropped away, leaving only a hollow stare as he waited for my instructions. I ignored the confused stares I was getting from the men in the line, focusing instead on the task at hand. "You're going to let my friends and I inside now, and you're not going to check our ID's."

I blinked, breaking the hold and the guy shook his head, frowning for a split second before a peaceful smile appeared on his thin lips. "Right this way, ma'am," he said unclipping the velvet rope and waving the boys and I through.

"That's seriously my favourite thing," Stiles shouted to me giddily as we stepped into the club, the music so loud it made my ears ache. I held back a retort about how if he loved it so much he wouldn't be wearing vervain, but I held my tongue. We waded into the crowd, coming to a stop on the edge of the dance floor. I suddenly realised why I'd been the recipient of those stares.

"Guys, everyone in here's a dude?" Scott yelled to us, and I looked over at Stiles, a snicker escaping my lips when I saw a handful of beautiful drag queens draped over him, one even stroking his freckled face. "I think we're in a gay club!" Scott continued obliviously.

"Man, nothing gets passed those keen werewolf senses, huh Scott?"

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly, still chuckling as I turned around, intent on heading for the bar. I dodged the grinding men, enjoying being in a club without having the men leer at my chest like animals. I ordered a drink from the bartender, then perched at a chair, sipping my scotch and gazing around the room, eyes seeking out Jackson – or rather, the kanima.

"Two beers!" Stiles ordered, slipping into place beside me with Scott a good five minutes later, finally managing to get away from his enamoured admirers.

"ID's?" the bartender asked, eyeing the pair suspiciously. The boys handed over their fake driver's licences. The attractive guy behind the bar peered at them closely for a moment before smirking and shaking his head. "How about two cokes?"

"Rum and coke? Sure!" Stiles grinned, bobbing his head to the music. After a moment he seemed to notice the bartender's hard stare and quickly changed his tune. "Coke's fine actually...I'm driving anyway."

I took another sip of my scotch, smirking at a dejected Stiles.

"Can't you compel me a drink?" he asked in a whiny tone, and I simply shot him an unimpressed look. "This wouldn't be a problem if you would just hook me up with your illegal papers guy!" he all but yelled in an effort to be heard over the thudding music.

"Say it louder, why don't you?" I shouted back, scowling at the brown eyed boy.

"That one's paid for," another bartender, this one gloriously shirtless, said with a sexy smirk, gesturing to Scott's coke.

Scott couldn't contain his grin as he took a sip from his straw. I could faintly see a blush creeping up his tanned cheeks, and I smirked widely, finishing off the rest of my drink. "Shut up," Stiles snarled without any bite, sipping at his own drink.

"I didn't say anything."

"Well your face did."

I chuckled at their banter, spinning around to peer out into the crowd. I was never much of a dancer, at least, not this kind of dancing. Sure, it could be fun in the right setting with the perfect amount of alcohol, but to me, dancing was less about rubbing up against each other and more about the connection you felt to the other person. That's how it was when I grew up, anyway, and I guess those sort of things tended to stick with you.

"Hey, I found Danny," Stiles piped up after a minute, putting down his cup and gesturing into the sweaty crowd.

"I found Jackson," Scott countered, eyes on the ceiling. I followed his gaze, scowling at the overgrown lizard creeping along the piping. "Get Danny," he instructed a moment later, eyes trained on the kanima.

"What are you gonna do?"

Scott flicked open his hand, exposing the sharp claws stemming from each finger. I glanced over at him, veins crawling up my cheeks. "Works for me," Stiles hummed, nodding to himself before hurrying forwards.

Scott and I stalked forwards, keeping an eye on the kanima as we attempted to get under it, so we could stop it if it dropped to the dance floor. A large shirtless man bumped into me, and while ordinarily that would have been the opposite of a problem, it was more than inconvenient in that moment, as I took my eyes off the lizard for a split second, looking back up a moment later to see it had vanished. "Where the hell did it go?" Scott muttered, knowing I could hear him over the booming music easily.

"I don't know," I growled, glaring up at the roof as it began to leak fog, yet another inconvenience.

Suddenly there were screams echoing through the room, so loud they pierced over the music. My chest clenched in worry, I was so concerned for Stiles' wellbeing that I barely noticed Derek, who appeared and slashed the kanima across the chest. I didn't have time to make sure everyone was okay, I had to get to Stiles.

"Stiles?!" I yelled even once the music had died down, roughly shoving through the tightly packed crowd. "Stiles?!"

"Jules?!"

I slipped out from behind a giant, instantly moving to Stiles' side, my hands attaching to his shoulders like magnets. "You're alright?" I asked with a frown, and he was quick to nod.

"What happened?" he questioned quietly, pressing a hand to my back and gently pushing me away from the crowd.

"Derek showed up," I told him, leading him through to the far exit, struggling to keep to human speeds in my worry for Scott and the whereabouts of the kanima. "Scott went this way."

We rushed from the club, the only sounds our footsteps on the ground and Stiles' panting. I led him out into the cool night air and through the parked cars until we finally made it to Scott, who knelt on the ground over an unconscious, injured Jackson.

"What do we do with him now?" the teen wolf asked at a loss, blinking up at us desperately. Stiles turned to stare at me expectantly, and I got the feeling I would have to take the reins on this one.

"Get him in the back of the Jeep," I instructed, glancing around the parking lot to make sure we weren't being watched.

"What?" Stiles interjected, making no move to follow my order. "No."

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"He'll get blood on the seats."

I paused. "That's your argument?"

He hesitated. "Well-"

"We don't have time for this," I cut him off, reluctantly reaching down and all but throwing the dead weight of Jackson over my shoulder. "Go inside," I told Scott sternly. "Make sure nobody died, I'll take the lizard to the car and have Stiles bring it around. We'll meet back here in ten."

It was solid enough plan, definitely good enough considering I'd come up with it on the spot. Scott nodded, turning around and rushing back into the club. I could already hear the faint sound of sirens carried on the wind as ambulances and probably policemen made their way to our location.

"Come on," I urged a still Stiles, adjusting Jackson on my shoulder and stalking down the rows of cars, heading straight for the empty industrial lot we were parked behind.

The guy was light as a feather, so I was mildly amused when Stiles said, "Let me help you with that."

I shot him a dubious look. "Trust me, I don't need the help."

"Hey," he snapped, though not unkindly. "I'm trying to be chivalrous here."

I raised an eyebrow in his general direction. "We – a vampire and a human – are heading to your Jeep to hide the unconscious body of a homicidal lizard, all the while fleeing from what by now is probably officially labelled as a crime scene, and you're concerned with _chivalry_?"

He grumbled unintelligently under his breath, but I paid him no attention as we approached the gate. I had two options: I could throw Jackson over, or I could break the lock on the gate to the right. Deciding I would rather risk breaking and entering charges than waking the reptile in my arms, I gripped the padlock in my fist, giving it one sharp tug and smirking with satisfaction as it snapped.

Stiles didn't comment as he slid through the gap, pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking his Jeep. I moved around to the back, watching curiously as Stiles rushed forwards, needlessly opening the door for me, allowing me to carelessly drop Jackson on the backseat.

We both walked around to our respective sides, Stiles sliding into place behind the wheel while I leaned back in the passenger seat, kicking my feet up on the dash and ignoring Stiles' annoyed grimace. We were quiet during the very short drive back around to the front of the club. Stiles' reversed into a parking space, and I slid back out into the cold, pulling a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it up, leaning my weight against the Jeep and puffing in the smoke.

A few moments later Scott jogged up to me, nodding in acknowledgement before he slipped into my freshly vacated seat. I tuned out the sound of their muttering, pulling my phone from my pocket and checking for any new messages. My inbox was empty except for an older text from Stiles about the storm warnings a few day ago and to make sure I kept my windows shut. I smiled at the memory, unable to help myself as I reread his texted words.

Suddenly there were two headlights beaming in my eyes brightly. I winced, my sensitive eyes aching momentarily under the light. I sucked in another lungful of chemicals, pushing my phone back into my pocket and glancing over my shoulder into the car at a panicking Stiles. He exchanged some sharp words with Scott before he was suddenly tumbling from the car, stumbling across the road to meet his father halfway.

"Hey!" he greeted the older man brightly.

The Sheriff wasn't impressed. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?'" he asked blankly, and I watched in amusement as I absentmindedly blew smoke rings from my lips. "It's a _club. _We were clubbing. You know? At the club."

"Not exactly your type of club," he replied skeptically.

"Uh," he muttered, briefly at a loss for what to say. "Well, dad, there's a conversation that we need to-"

"You're not gay."

I snorted quietly, luckily neither man noticed, both too caught up in their conversation to notice me watching them. "I _could_ be," Stiles argued.

"Not dressed like that," he countered, eyeing his son with a critical eye. I barked a sharp laugh, this one heard by the small family. Stiles' heart picked up, but he didn't turn around, while the Sheriff glanced at me, lowering his voice as he looked back at Stiles, "Not with the way you look at her."

Again, Stiles didn't seem to know how to reply.

"This is the second crime scene that you've just happened to show up on," he continued strongly, frowning down at his son. "And at this point, I've been fed so many lies that I'm not sure I know the kid standing in front of me. Now what the _hell is going on_?"

I winced, looking away and pretending I couldn't hear every word.

"Dad, I-"

"The _truth_, Stiles."

"The truth?"

I froze, watching the kid worriedly. He swallowed loudly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I wondered what he'd come up with. If I had to, I could compel him to go away, but something told me that, since Stiles had taken to wearing vervain around his neck, he wouldn't have liked that suggestion.

"The truth is that we were here with Danny," he finally lied, nodding to himself as he spoke. "Yeah, because he just broke up with his boyfriend, so we were just trying to take him out and get his mind off things. That's it."

It was silent for a beat, and I watched the sheriff carefully, hoping he'd believe the lie and save me from having to compel him behind Stiles' back.

"Well that's really good of you guys," he finally said, looking at his son with soft eyes. "You're good friends."

I listened to Stiles' heart race with what was no doubt guilt, but as always, kept quiet. He clicked his tongue, forcing a carefree smile onto his face. With a pat on his dad's back, he'd turned around and retreated to the safety of his Jeep. I nodded politely at the sheriff, dropping my cigarette to the ground once he'd turned away, crushing it with my boot as I walked around to the back of the car. I tugged open the door, cringing at the sight of a naked, sweaty Jackson curled up in the backseat.

"What are you doing?!" Stiles exclaimed as I roughly shoved aside the unconscious kid's legs, preparing to settle into the seat.

I glanced up at him confusedly. "Getting in the car?"

"You-you can't sit there," he argued, shaking his head, glancing at the naked boy with a look of disgust.

"Why not?" I asked slowly.

"Because-well-because he's _naked,_" he said, cringing as he realised how weak his argument was.

I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. I was exasperated when he didn't. "So?" I questioned sharply. "We've all seen a dick."

Stiles flushed. This time it wasn't all blotchy patches of red, but rather a wave that crawled up from under his collar. "Would-would you just swap with Scott?" he stuttered, and though it was worded like a question, it was clear there was only one correct answer.

Mumbling unintelligently under my breath, I walked back around to the passenger seat, slipping past a sheepish Scott and making myself comfortable in the front seat. Once Stiles was satisfied with the seating arrangements he pulled out of the parking lot, steering us out onto the main road.

"Stiles?" Scott spoke up a good few minutes down the road, clearly at a loss as he watched his best friend scowl out the window like he smelt something bad. "What the hell are we going to do with him now?"

"Take him somewhere he can't do any damage, obviously," Stiles said, finally breaking out of his thoughts.

"Like?"

"Uh, what about your house?" he suggested.

"Not with my mom there!" Scott countered, glancing down distastefully at Jackson's naked form. "We need to take him somewhere where we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him. _Or_ long enough to convince him that he's dangerous."

There was a beat. "I still say we just kill him."

I snapped my head around to stare at Stiles with wide eyes, my mouth forming into a sly smile. This boy surprised me every minute of every day. Who knew he could be so gloriously ruthless? "I'll take this one for the team," I said almost giddily, raising my hand for consideration. Sure, I'd sworn not to kill anyone, but I figured I could bend the rule for a psychopathic killer lizard.

"We're _not_ killing him," Scott barked sternly. I turned around to pout at him dramatically.

"_God_," Stiles hissed back in annoyance. "Fine. Okay..." he trailed off, watching the road for a long moment before proclaiming, "I have an idea."

"Does it involve breaking the law?"

"By now don't you think that's a given?"

"I was just trying to be optimistic."

"Don't bother."

"So?" I asked happily, ready and excited to cause chaos. "What's the plan?"

* * *

"_This_ is the plan?"

Scott wasn't happy. I, on the other hand, was ecstatic. "As far as plans go, it could be worse," I offered with a cheshire cat grin, hoping he would find some sense of comfort in my words.

He didn't.

"Are we doing this the vampire way or the good old fashioned human way?" I asked conversationally, crossing my arms over my chest and cocking my head at Stiles. The kid sent me a befuddled look. "Compulsion or hot-wiring?" I simplified, gesturing to the police transport vehicle sitting idle by the back entrance to the police station across the road from us, two officers standing outside of it, talking in low voices.

"Considering none of us can hot-wire a car..." he trailed off, eyes widening at my smug expression. "Let me get this straight, you don't know how to turn on a laptop but you can hot-wire a car?" My lips quirked up in a smirk. "Where the hell do _your_ priorities lie?" he muttered to himself, running his palm down his face.

"Are we doing this or what?" Scott interjected, glancing uneasily at the policemen by the van.

"Is the little teen wolf afraid of getting caught?" I goaded him, and he sent me a sour glare that held no real malice in it. I smirked back widely, feeling more alive with each second. This was my element, this was where I excelled: the illegal and the immoral. This was my playground.

"Look, just go compel the drivers to give up the keys and make them think that they looked away for a moment and when they looked back it was gone, so when people do figure out it's missing there's a plausible reason," Stiles instructed me, and I nodded, hands automatically going to the buttons of my shirt as I undid the top few, working my was down my chest. "What the _hell_ are you doing?" he squeaked, turning around to stare at me with wide eyes.

"On the off chance they have vervain, I need to act like I have a reason to be going up to them, especially if there are any cameras around here," I told him, glancing down at my chest and the exposed edges of my lilac bra.

The air seemed to leave Stiles in a puff, then there was another squeaky noise as he tried to breathe in. I raised an eyebrow at him and Scott, who was politely staring at a lamppost across the street. Stiles was still wheezing a moment later, and I glanced up at him worriedly. He was staring resolutely at his shoes, that wave of colour once again creeping up from below his collar.

"Oh please, like you've never seen breasts before," I said casually, rolling my eyes and prodding the edges of the mounds, making them bounce slightly. I had to admit, for my age, they were pretty damn good. I smirked at my own pathetic joke. Scott sniggered awkwardly and Stiles flushed an even darker shade, glaring at his best friend in betrayal. "_Oh_," I mumbled, blinking at Stiles in surprise.

Stiles was a virgin.

Suddenly I understood why he got so uncomfortable when I stripped down or referred to it. I'd always known he was pure, I just hadn't known it was this much.

"Look, are you going to compel the guards or what?" Stiles snapped irritably, crossing his arms over his chest.

"On it," I nodded, suddenly feeling lighter than usual. There was a fluttering in my chest that I knew couldn't possibly be my unbeating heart. I spun around, striding across the road, forcing myself not to look back at the staring boys.

I approached the policemen slowly, a wide, breathtaking smile pasted forcibly on my lips. Purposefully making my shoes slap against the pavement, they looked up as I neared them. "Hello boys," I greeted with a saccharine smile. "Could I have your help with something?"

"Ma'am?" the stockier one on the left said questioningly, tilting his head and fixing me with a dull hazel stare.

"I need to borrow your vehicle," I told him, drawing him in easily, feeling the faint connection slap into place. The skinnier one to the right stepped forwards, but with a glance I had him under my control too. "If you'd be so kind as to hand over the keys?" I asked, holding out my hand, keeping the grin on my lips. Skinny pulled out a simple black leather keyring from his pocket, handing it over without a word. "Forget I was here," I ordered them. "All you know is that the van went missing, and you don't know who took it."

"We don't know who took it," the heavier one parroted, and I blinked, instantly releasing them from my hold.

"Good boys," I smirked, lifting my hand to shoe them away. "Now run along."

They turned around, striding back into the building with dazed expressions on their stupid faces.

I spun back to face the boys who had clamoured out of the shadows, grinning at me widely. My lips twitched up and I couldn't be bothered forcing my smile down as I held up the keys to them, and they glinted in the streetlight. "Wanna go for a ride?" I asked cheekily, and the two glanced at each other with human smirks. Stiles reached out to take the keys, but I pulled my hand back, taking them with me. "I'm driving."

* * *

"You could have gone to school, you know," Stiles told me casually as he jumped out of the back of the transport vehicle. I flashed a wide smirk at Jackson just before the doors shut in his face, enjoying the rage displayed on his chiselled features.

"And leave you out here all on your lonesome?" I asked rhetorically, letting my head bump against the tree trunk I was leaning against and puffing idly on my cigarette. He shot me an exasperated look. "I've been to high school a dozen times," I told him softly, changing tactics. "It's not like I'm missing out on anything crucial. And it's not exactly like I have a future I can fuck up."

He winced like he'd been stung but the expression dropped before I could ponder it further. "You know, smoking is a disgusting habit," he said, grimacing pointedly at the cigarette I had pinned between two fingers. "It's not very good for you either."

"Says the boy who once ate seven cups of chilli-cheese fries in one sitting," I drawled teasingly. He looked like he wanted to argue, but I continued before he had the chance. "It's not doing me any harm. The damage from the smoke heals instantly."

"Why do you do it then?" he asked curiously. "Surely it can't be the taste."

I chuckled, "No, definitely not the taste. It's the chemicals, they calm me down, help with the cravings."

It was quiet for a moment, Stiles tapping his fingers against the side of the van, passing the time with as little insanity as he could. "Why doesn't Jackson's venom work on you?"

I glanced up at him in surprise. I hadn't really thought about it, but from what little I did know about vampiric biology, I was able to piece together a somewhat coherent explanation. "Because our heart doesn't pump blood, the venom didn't move around my body, therefore not giving it the chance to paralyse me," I explained. "After a while, of course, it sinks into the pores, slowing the healing process." He tilted his head, frowning as he tried to understand my words.

"But the cigarettes...?"

"Airborne and edible substances affect us. Injections and venoms don't."

He seemed to take that in, nodding slowly as he thought it over. "That makes sense," he finally decided but continued to frown.

"What?" I asked hesitantly, crushing the smoke in my hand and letting it drop to the earth.

"Why didn't you offer your blood to heal me?" he asked after a long moment, and I stilled, peering through the daylight at him. "A few days ago, after everything that happened at the pool," he elaborated needlessly. "It heals wounds, that's what you said; that your blood heals all wounds."

"Come on," I sighed, forcing a carefree smile onto my lips, no matter how difficult it was to do so. "Since when are you one for chick-flick-bare-your-soul-and-deep-and-meaningful-conversations?"

"Juliet."

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. I met his brown eyes, and I watched him worriedly. I could go forty-eight hours without sleep no problem, but Stiles had deep, dark circles under his eyes, he looked exhausted. I decided not to comment on it, however, I knew he wouldn't take it well.

"If you die with vampire blood in your system, it triggers the change," I told him, remembering the day so many weeks ago when I'd told him the same thing. "What if you got into a car crash on the way home? What if you slipped and fell? What if one of the hundreds of possible things happened to you while my blood was in your system?"

He didn't reply for a while, frowning uncharacteristically at the ground. "You'd rather me be dead for good than be a vampire?"

I flinched like I'd been struck. The thought of Stiles dead in any way, shape or form absolutely killed me, made me ache deep in my hollow chest. "Of course not," I breathed, taking a step away from the tree, tiptoeing closer to the tired boy. "I assumed that's what _you'd_ rather."

"Why would I want that?" he asked as I came to a stop beside him, blinking up into his eyes.

I shrugged, not having a good answer. "Maybe I was just projecting," I said pathetically, trying to smile, the expression falling flat.

Something like pain crossed his face, and he took a step closer, arms wrapping around my shoulders as he pulled me into a hug. I stayed frozen for a long moment before finally relaxing into the embrace. My face tucked naturally into his neck, and I found that although the ache of hunger was there, it was easily ignorable. I breathed in his scent, moving passed the allure of the blood and focusing instead on the smell of curly fries and mint and chocolate that seemed to cling to him constantly. An odd combination, but not an entirely unpleasant one.

My arms moved up to wrap around his neck and his moved down to my waist. He seemed to press his lips to my crown, and I smiled into his collarbone, listening to his heavy breathing and racing heart.

The sound of footsteps met my ears, but I ignored them, unwilling to pull myself from the warm boy's embrace.

"Hey," Allison said awkwardly, and Stiles jumped a mile high, ripping away from me like he'd been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. My arms dropped uselessly to my sides, and I felt confusingly cold without the contact.

"Oh my _God_," he hissed, whirling around to glare at the pretty human girl.

"They know."

"What?"

"They know Jackson's missing!"

"No, they can't, I've been texting his parents since last night. They don't have a clue."

"My grandfather told me his parents went to the police," she corrected him seriously, glancing over her shoulder as though worried we were somehow being watched. "They _know_."

Stiles pulled the phone we stole off of Jackson out of his pocket, staring down at the little square of technology in something akin to horror. He dropped it instantly, and I plucked it out of the air, saving it from smashing on the hard ground. He darted into the cab of the van, picking up the radio and turning it on.

We listened in matching winces as the officer on the frequency instructed all units to our approximate location.

"What the hell are we supposed to do now?" Allison asked, tugging her beanie tighter around her head. The two of them turned to look at me expectantly.

"We have to get out of here," I said, already on my way to the driver's side of the car. "I'll take the van with Allison, Stiles, you can drive your Jeep so you don't have to leave it here."

"Do you have any idea where to go? You barely know how to get from school to your house," Stiles said, and I grit my teeth, not appreciating the way he was always underestimating me.

"I may not know the town very well," I responded. "But I spend a hell of a lot of time in the woods. I know all the good hiding spots."

He seemed reluctant, but it didn't take long to convince him to follow my lead. Grumbling under his breath, he moved over to his car, sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut after him.

Allison climbed into the passenger seat of the van, glancing into the back anxiously. She was quiet as I steered the car through the trees, heading for the view point in the north. The cops wouldn't expect us to go somewhere so open, so it was probably our best bet.

"So, you and Stiles, huh?"

I didn't bother replying, instead just staring straight ahead into the forest, the lighting orange from the slowly setting sun.

"I definitely approve," she continued lightly, clearly trying to gain a response.

"Oh, thank goodness for that," I drawled flatly, going for mean and scathing, but apparently hitting amusing, as she giggled. "There is no _me and Stiles_," I said, deciding that I'd better put some effort into denying it. "There never will be."

"You guys are insanely cute though," she told me with a blinding grin. I refused to glance at her, but she wasn't so easily deterred. "He's different around you. Not in a bad way – he's still Stiles, when is he not? – but he's...calmer. He's more at peace. Which I find strange considering you don't exactly give off a calming aura," she chuckled, expecting me to laugh along with her.

I shot her a flat, unimpressed look.

"See, that's what I mean," she said passionately. "Lydia once told me never to frown because 'somebody could be falling in love with your smile'." I looked over at her once more, this time with my sharpest and absolute darkest smirk fixed on my lips. She sighed, shaking her head, though not seeming too annoyed by it. "We'll work on it," she told me reassuringly.

I glanced away, allowing a brief but sincere grin to sit on my lips for a good few seconds before covering it with an indifferent stare. I wouldn't for a second let her know that I actually liked her.

* * *

The cab of the Jeep was silent, nothing but the beat of Stiles' heart and the rumbling of the engine meeting my sensitive hearing. I sure as hell wasn't going to be the first one to speak, and every now and then Stiles would open his mouth, freeze, then mumble incoherently before slipping back into silence again.

I felt bad for the kid, in a way. He had no idea why I wasn't talking to him like usual. He'd tried at first, joking about Jackson's genitalia and it's surrounding area. He was only met with stony silence. He hadn't done anything to deserve it either.

It was all Allison's fault.

I was happy living in ignorant bliss, spending time with Stiles without the terrifying pressure of..._feelings_ and _attraction._ I mean, come on, it was _Stiles_. Not only was he a spastic, hyperactive, mess of a teenager, he was so very _human_.

I'd been in love before. 200 plus years, it'd come up once or twice. There was Joshua in the 50's, Alex in the 70's, Christoph in 86' and Logan in 97'. My brief fling with the oldest Salvatore sometime early last century which hadn't lasted long but ended up in something I was kind of confident in calling a friendship. There was also, of course, the very first one. My first love. And, to be honest, the only one I could say was _real_. The jackass who turned me. He and his bloody family...

I snapped back to reality before the nightmares could take hold, jolting myself back into the familiar Jeep, finding myself glaring out the window with my hands curled into fists. I relaxed, taking a deep breath more for comfort than necessity, inhaling Stiles' mouthwatering scent.

Was there something between Stiles and I?

Sure, vampires had flings with humans all the time, it was all part of the fun, but I didn't plan on sleeping with Stiles multiple times until eventually draining him dry.

I cringed at my mental innuendo.

It would never work, of course I wasn't even sure if I _wanted_ it to work. It was _Stiles_.

"What do you want?"

My head snapped to the left, blinking with wide eyes at the waiting driver, staring at me expectantly. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. How had he known? Did I speak aloud?

"From the drive-through," he elaborated when met with my blank expression. I looked past him, eyes focusing on the speaker box we were parked beside, the crackle of the speakers making me twitch.

"Nothing," I answered him simply, wondering why he'd asked at all. He knew I didn't eat human food.

He rolled his eyes, a meek smile appearing on his lips as he pushed through the awkwardness I was causing. "Come on," he prompted. "I know you like Burger King, just pick something." I shot him a look complete with narrowed eyes. "I _know_ you don't need it, would you just pick something already?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," I said simply, and though he looked exasperated, he leaned back out the window and ordered our meals, as well as extra for Scott and Allison.

I took the bags from him once we drove away, balancing them in my lap as I stared out the window at the darkness, finding comfort in how it pressed around me, keeping me safe and hidden. I guess that was another thing that didn't mix well between Stiles and I.

I was made for darkness, he belonged in the light.

I didn't want to ask, but I knew I didn't really have a choice, it would continue to gnaw at me unless I heard the truth for myself.

"Why are you wearing the vervain?"

Stiles jumped when I spoke, having gotten so used to my silence. He took a moment to process what I'd asked him, and once he did his heart sped up.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"_No_!" I didn't jump, but I did flinch as his desperate yell filled the cab of his Jeep. "Of _course _I'm not afraid of you Jules," he said with conviction, looking away from the dark road to glace at me, my face barely illuminated by his headlights.

"You just don't trust me."

I couldn't blame him, no matter how much I wanted to. "I trust you more than anyone," he insisted, and though I knew that was a blatant lie, I kept my lips sealed. "It's others of your kind that I don't trust."

I felt relieved by his words, but I couldn't help still feeling somewhat upset. He didn't like my kind, so why would he like me? How would he ever accept me?

He wouldn't. And he shouldn't ever have to.

"You know that, right?" he spoke up when I said nothing. "You know I'm not afraid of you?" I refused to open my mouth. "Hate to break it to you Jules, but you're not actually all that scary-" I cut him off with my most lethal glare, lip curling back as I flashed him my fangs. "-okay, so maybe you're a little scary." I sank back into the seat, turning to glare out the window and putting my fangs away. "But-but it doesn't matter if you're scary, because I _trust_ you, and _that's_ what matters."

I wasn't sure how to reply to his sincere words, already uncomfortable with the heartfelt declaration. "Whatever you say, kid."

It was quiet again, neither of us sure what to say after that mess of a conversation. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the trees fly past as Stiles drove us up the mountain, through the forest. We parked opposite the van, and as soon as I cracked the door I was hit with a face-full of stench.

"Ugh," I blurted in disgust, jumping from the car to glare at Scott's car sitting across the small clearing.

"What?" Stiles asked worriedly.

"It reeks of werewolf sex," I cringed, making a point to breathe through my mouth to avoid getting hit with the scent. I tilted my head, focusing on Jackson, making sure the little prick was okay.

Nothing.

"Stiles," I said, disappearing from view only to reappear in front of the broken back doors of the police transport vehicle, staring at the empty inside with a scowl. "We have a problem."


	21. Demon Limbs

_Oh I know_

_I can feel the shifting in my bones_

_Enclosed are the senses so unknown_

_I've been changing, falling, fading_

_There's demons at the door patiently waiting_

Demon Limbs – PVRIS

* * *

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

My eyes slipped open and I raised my head from where it rested on the edge of the tub. I felt somewhat guilty about leaving Stiles and Scott to tell the sheriff about the supernatural by themselves, but Stiles assured me his dad would probably take to werewolves a hell of a lot easier than vampires.

I'd come straight home, happy to take off my shoes and draw a lavender bath, letting myself soak in the scolding hot water. I considered not answering the door, letting whoever it was find me another time, but I knew when there were more impatient knocks that it could have been important, so I stood, bathwater dripping down my body. I reached a hand out, plucking my favourite satin robe, slipping it over my naked form before sliding from the room, making it to my front door in under a second.

I made sure the sash was tied tightly, covering everything vital before pulling open the door, raising an eyebrow at a surprised Stiles.

He was silent, staring at me with wide, chocolate eyes.

"You're wet," he finally announced, I merely cocked my head, waiting for him to elaborate. "Were you swimming?"

"I was in the bath, numb-nuts," I snapped back without any real bite, stepping aside and gesturing for him to come in.

"I can't stay long," he told me, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring resolutely at the far wall. "Dad's expecting me home in twenty minutes."

"Well?" I prompted when he didn't say anything. "How'd it go?"

"We didn't tell him."

I paused, taken by surprise by his words. "Oh?" I ended up saying, crossing my arms over my chest. "What happened?"

"Long story short: the kanima needs a master and Jackson has a restraining order against us."

I waited, but it didn't get any clearer with time. "Excuse me?" I asked carefully, waiting for a more substantial explanation.

"Ugh," he groaned, running his palm down his cheek. "I don't know where to begin."

"Okay, how about with the kanima? It needs a _master_?"

"So Allison met up with Lydia, who it turns out can read archaic latin," he disclosed, leaning his weight against my entry wall and for a moment seeming to forget I wasn't wearing more than a thin robe of satin. "Miss Morrell got it wrong. It doesn't say the kanima needs a friend. It says it needs a master."

"So someone's controlling him?" I asked in shock, frowning for a moment at my feet as I put it all together.

"Must be."

I paused. "And what the hell is this about a restraining order?"

"Yeah," he groaned again, suddenly looking extremely tired. "Jackson ran right to his lawyer dad, Scott and I aren't allowed within fifty feet of him."

"But not me?" I asked dubiously.

"Uh, they didn't mention you," Stiles replied, seeming to only just realise so himself.

"Why wouldn't he mention me?"

"Beats me," he shrugged, then glanced down at his phone. "Crap, I have to get home or dad's going to kill me. I'll pick you up in the morning."

"Sure," I responded, still slightly reeling from the information I'd received. "See you then," I nodded, smiling softly before closing the door behind him, happy to get right back to my bath.

* * *

"I need you to steal Lydia's bracelet then compel her to tell me everything about Jackson's parents," Stiles said, sliding up beside me in the hall, dodging a huge kid in a letterman jacket.

"Wait, what?" I asked, whirling around to face him. "Her bracelet?"

"Yeah," he muttered awkwardly. "I kind of...gave a bracelet full of vervain to Allison to give her, just, you know, to be safe."

I wanted to be angry, but I found that I couldn't. It made sense, I just had to remind myself it wasn't for protection from _me_, just others of my species. "Hate to break it to you, but if it's laced with vervain then I won't be able to touch it," I told him with a shrug, and he looked surprised that I didn't have anything to say about the vervain.

"We have to try," he said, and though I didn't see any point, I nodded, until it occurred to me that I had no idea why I was being asked to do so.

"Uh, Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Why am I doing this?"

He paused, realising the gap in his plan. "Oh," he muttered, grasping my arm and leading me away from the rest of the crowd, leaning us both against the wall where we were less likely to be overheard. "The kanima is meant to be a werewolf, but it's because of something in it's personality or state of mind that-"

"I already know all of this," I cut him off quickly.

"You do?" he frowned. "How?"

"I've known what a kanima was since the nineteenth century," I told him with a shrug. "I've just never seen one in person, so I didn't know this was it until Derek told us. What I _don't _know is what Captain douche-bag's parents have to do with him being the kanima."

"It's Allison's theory," he explained. "She thinks whatever happened to his birth parents is what's keeping him from transforming into a werewolf."

As far as theories went, it wasn't the worst one I'd ever heard.

Before I could comment, Stiles snapped to attention, spinning around and calling after an ignorant Lydia.

He'd barely taken a step when a hand slammed into his chest, shoving him back against the bricks. I whirled around to glare warningly at the blonde beta, lip curling back just enough to expose the tips of my fangs, incase this was some kind of veiled attack.

"Why are you asking Lydia about Jackson's real parents?"

"Why are you bringing out the claws on camera?" he asked with a raised brow, and instantly my lip dropped, covering my sharp fangs just as she balled her hand into a fist. "That's right, you wanna play catwoman? I'll be your batman."

There was a sour curdling deep in my gut, and I winced at the force of it before wiping my face clean of emotion, the blank glare I was most comfortable with settling nicely onto my face. The feeling evaporated when Stiles' hand found mine, pulling me from the situation, leading me away from the potential fight.

"If you're wondering about Jackson's real parents, they're about half a mile from here," she called out to us as we left, and we paused, Stiles turning around to fix her with a confused look. "In Beacon Hills Cemetery."

I wasn't watching, but I heard the sound of her heels clicking on the floor and she strutted away. Stiles made to pull me after her, but I was frozen when the sound of a fight met my ears from down the hall, the voices involved incredibly familiar. "Go," I told him, ripping my hand from his and beginning down the hall at a human pace. "I'll catch up."

"What?" he asked, but I'd already melted into the crowd.

I jogged to get there faster, and after what felt like forever I burst into the locker room, eyes turning red. "Damn boys," I grunted as I spied Jackson and Scott attacking each other to the side, Allison crouching, clearly scared, in the corner. "Are you okay?" I asked, appearing at her side, making her jump.

"You have to stop them!" she shouted over the sound of a porcelain sink smashing into a hundred pieces.

Nodding, I darted to the fighting boys' side, grabbing Scott by the collar and yanking him back, vaguely hearing the wall behind him crack as he hit it. I turned around on Jackson. "I'm not going to hit you," he said with an ugly grimace.

"Okay," I responded cheerily, barely giving him a second to take a breath before rearing my arm back and slamming my fist into his face. He fell back at the blow, but not nearly as much as a normal human would have. I frowned, but he'd apparently changed his mind about hitting me, because he swung around, landing a punch to my face. My head snapped to the side and my jaw ached, but I had a lot of experience taking hits and I recovered quickly.

Raising a leg to kick him in the gut, I was surprised when he caught my ankle, using my own momentum to pick me up and slam me into the hard tiles. Scott used this opportunity to get back in on the action.

He ran at Jackson, punching him in the mouth. I pushed myself to my feet, refusing to let the wolf have all the fun. With the kanima distracted I landed a kick to hit crotch that sent him sprawled on the floor. He recovered supernaturally quickly, kicking out a leg and taking my feet from under me, sending me to the floor. He was fast, a moment later he was on top of me and his fist had slammed into my mouth. I felt my lip split but barely gave it any thought, landing a punch of my own to his chin.

While he was holding his bruised bone in pain I shoved him carelessly to the side, taking Scott's offered hand and letting him pull me to my feet. Jackson, once again, recovered almost instantly.

I sighed, time to end this.

I ran at the kanima at top speeds, so fast he didn't have a hope of seeing it coming. I slammed into him, breaking the door behind him off of it's hinges and sending us flying out into the hallway. I landed on top of him and brought my fist back, punching him squarely in the nose, but not hard enough to break it, just hard enough to give him a jolt and to hurt like a bitch.

"_Juliet_?!" Stiles' familiar voice screeched, but I paid him no attention. The next second Scott was tumbling out the broken door, slamming into me accidentally as he tried to land another hit on Jackson's annoyingly handsome face. I rolled off the kid, sliding to my feet and nonchalantly kicking my boot into his side, making the kid groan in agony as I no doubt snapped a rib.

An arm wrapped around my waist, and though my instinct was to fight it, as I inhaled Stiles' scent I knew I couldn't, allowing myself to go limp.

"Enough!" Harris shouted furiously, stalking into the hall. "What the hell do you idiots think you're doing?! Jackson, calm down! Mr McCall, you want to explain yourself? Miss Cooper? Stilinski?"

"Hey, you dropped this," some guy told Scott, holding out one of those electric pads.

"You, you and _you_," the teacher growled, shoving a bony finger in each of our directions. I glared back at him, raising a hand to my mouth and nonchalantly wiping at the blood there. My lip had already healed, so I'd just play the blood off as somebody else's. "Actually, all of you. Detention. Three o'clock."

* * *

Just what I needed, to be locked in a small room with the kanima and my least favourite beta. I kicked my feet up on the chair next to me, glaring darkly at a smirking Erica who was picking at her nails. "You have a crush on Stiles, huh?" I asked quietly so we – and I suppose Scott and Jackson – were the only ones to hear, repeating what Stiles had told me on the way to detention, taking an entirely different route from Jackson to make sure another fight didn't break out.

Erica's smirk dropped for a moment before flickering back to life, her heart beating slightly faster. "We should start a club," she told me smugly.

"Excuse me?"

"You know," she continued. "A club for people who have feelings for Stiles. You can be the president."

"Bitch, what are _you_ smoking?" I asked, lips twitching upwards mockingly. I couldn't help the way my eyes flickered to Stiles, sitting a table over, talking with Scott in low tones. After a moment he caught my gaze and smiled gently before continuing to discuss whatever it was with Scott. I was glad, suddenly, that I had no heartbeat to give me away.

"Deny it all you like, I see the way you look at him," she replied. "It's the way I used to look at him."

"I don't recall denying it," I retorted, and she raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me, glossy lips pulling up into a triumphant smirk.

"He doesn't feel the same way, you know," Erica trilled. "He's in love with Lydia. Always will be. You're barely a blip on his radar in comparison."

"Are you trying to stir me up? Get a reaction from me?" I asked amusedly, tilting my head at her and smirking. "Honey, I'm _much _too old for that shit to work. Especially coming from somebody as unimportant as Derek's bitch."

She looked about ready to blow a gasket while I continued to stare back at her, unflinching. She was stopped from making a move by the pained moan of Jackson from behind me. I threw a lazy, unconcerned glance over my shoulder, hoping I'd done lasting damage, only to see him holding his head in a place I hadn't hit. "I have to go to the bathroom," he said, grabbing his bag and moving across the room.

"Are you alright?" Harris asked in a moment of uncharacteristic compassion. "You don't look so good."

"Yeah, I'm just going to get some water," he said curtly, striding from the room.

Harris followed the boy, throwing a stern order to stay in our seats as he left. A moment later the terrific twosome were out of their chairs and across the room, Scott sliding into the open seat next to me while Stiles stumbled into the one opposite me, kicking off my legs and sitting down, barely throwing me a glance, too preoccupied with his task. "Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died," Scott said quietly.

"Maybe."

"Talk," he commanded weakly.

"No."

"_Talk,_" I snarled, the sound making Stiles jump in his seat.

"What are you going to do? Bite me on camera?" she asked, glancing pointedly at the camera in the far corner pointed directly at us.

"You don't wanna know how far I'll go," I warned her, and ever though her glare intensified, she still complied, eventually giving up.

"It was a car accident," she divulged reluctantly. "My dad was the insurance investigator. Every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he's eighteen."

"So not only is Jackson rich now, he's getting even richer at eighteen?" Stiles asked sourly, cringing at the very thought.

"Yep."

"There's something so deeply wrong with that."

"You know what? I could try and find the insurance report in my dads inbox. He keeps everything," Erica muttered as she opened her laptop, beginning to type away at the keys.

"_Scott McCall, please report to the principal's office._"

We were quiet, glancing at each other warily. "Well," I mumbled, peeking up at the speaker system like it was to blame. "That can't be good."

"What do I do?" he asked with wide eyes, blinking innocently at me as though I had all the answers.

"Go, obviously," I responded with a shrug. "You can't just avoid it."

"She's right man," Stiles interjected tiredly. "Just don't let him back you into a corner, figuratively _or_ literally."

"And don't show fear," I added with a strong nod. "Keep your chin up and don't be afraid to look him in the eye."

"Got it," he muttered unconvincingly. "I can do this."

Before he could talk himself out of it he was on his feet and striding across the room, heading for the main office. We fell silent again, only the human's heartbeats and the sound of Erica tapping away at the keyboard filling the room.

"Look at the dates," Stiles suddenly spoke up, leaning forwards in his chair to peer more closely at the screen.

"The passengers arrived at the hospital DOA. Estimated time of death: 9:26 pm, June fourteenth, 1995," Erica read aloud, keeping her tone low so as to not be overheard.

"Jackson's birthday is June fifteenth," he replied with a frown. Before any of us could comment further, the sharp sound of a zip being tugged filled the room, and everyone slid to their feet, gathering our things as we prepared to leave detention.

Harris' mocking laughter sounded out, and I turned to look at him with an arched brow._"_No, I'm sorry. Yes_, I'm _leaving, but none of _you_ are. You may go when you're done with the re-shelving," he told us with a smug smirk, gesturing to the stacks of books piled atop the carts. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." I wasn't in the mood, I'd done my time and I was ready to get the hell out of there. I took a step forwards, stony glare in place, only to have Stiles grasp my arm, gently pulling me back beside him. I glanced at him in annoyance, and he merely looked pointedly at the camera hanging in the corner, angled directly at us, recording our every move.

I scowled but relented, dropping my bag and raising a single finger at Harris' retreating back before sighing and sliding onto the desktop, legs swinging underneath me.

"Where's Harris?" Scott asked a few minutes later, finally bursting back into the room and looking around confusedly. "Can we go yet?"

"Look around and reassess your question, Scott," I told him sharply, but he took no notice, merely frowning at the group, watching as I handed Stiles a book from the pile that he then slipped into place on the shelves.

"Pst," Stiles hissed suddenly, catching his best friend's attention and jerking his head to the side, indicating for him to follow him into an alcove. I rolled my eyes at the theatrics, but pushed myself to my feet nonetheless, wandering over to the spot hidden from the camera's view and meeting the rest of my little squad. "So, we found out that Jackson's parents died a day before his birthday," he told Allison and Scott quietly, glancing over his shoulder to make sure we weren't being eavesdropped on. "It was a car accident."

"What does that mean?" Allison asked with a pained frown.

"It means he was born after his mom died; by c-section," he said, grimacing at the thought. "They had to pull him out of her dead body."

"I can't imagine," Allison trailed off empathetically before shaking her head and fixing a frown on her pretty face. "So was it an accident or not?"

"The word all over the report is: inconclusive."

"His parents could have been murdered?" Scott asked with a furrowed brow.

"Well if they were then it falls in line with the kanima myth. You know? It seeks out and kills murderers," Stiles explained, glancing through the books to make sure he wasn't listening.

"But for Jackson or for the person controlling him?" Allison asked smartly.

"We have to talk to him – we have to _tell_ him," Scott began, stepping away from the cart we were ignoring. Stiles and Allison whisper-yelled after him, but I was more curious just to see how it played out.

However, I sincerely regretted my selfish decision when there was a crash from above us and a yelp from an isle over as the lights blew, a shower of sparks falling over us. Instinctively I stepped towards Stiles, backing him into a shelf and standing in front of him, preparing for an attack. There was a reptilian hiss that seemed to come from every direction at once, and I snarled into the open air, fangs proudly on display, eyes an inky black and bloody red.

It must have leapt over us, because suddenly pieces of the ceiling fell to the ground, just barely missing Stiles' fragile head. A blur shot passed me, and running once again purely on instinct I jumped out, reluctantly moving away from Stiles and stepping in front of Scott's collision course with a book cart. I caught him, stopping him from breaking anything and barely checking to see if he was okay before yanking him down to where Allison, and now Stiles, was curled up, staring at Jackson with wide, scared eyes.

_Stay out of my way or I'll kill all of you_.

It was a strange thing for him to do, scribble the words onto an otherwise clean blackboard, while he was half transformed into a giant lizard. Still, it wasn't entirely unexpected, the villain always gave some kind of warning, didn't they?

Before we could do anything he was snarling one last time, murky yellow slits focused on us before he leapt from the room, smashing an upper window and disappearing out into the slowly darkening day. I took a step forwards, but Scott grabbed my arm, pulling me back. "Let him go," he muttered, staring at the broken glass with distracted eyes.

The teens stood to their feet, cautiously moving closer to the words scrawled messily on the board. I crossed my arms, peering through narrowed eyes at the sentence.

"Hey!" Stiles barked loudly from being me, and I instantly turned around, locking eyes with him as he knelt down beside a seizing Erica. "I think she's having a seizure," he told us, holding the blonde in his arms, making sure she didn't hit her head.

In the blink of an eye I was knelt beside him, pressing my hand to her head so I could get a good look at her pupils, keeping an ear on her steadily rising heart rate. Scott rushed to our side, holding her shoulders, trying to stop her uncontrollable shaking.

"He's alive," Allison called, referring to the paralysed kid a shelf over, not that I cared in the slightest.

"We need to get her to a hospital," Stiles said seriously, frowning down at the girl.

"Derek!" she argued weakly, voice as shaky as her body. "Only Derek."

There was some debate, but she kept muttering Derek's name. "Scott!" Stiles shouted angrily as the wolf darted to his human girlfriend's side, whispering to each other under their breaths. "What do we do? Derek or the hospital?" he asked me, eyes wide and pleading for an answer.

I stared down at the seizing girl through narrowed eyes, grinding my teeth together as I considered the question. "Derek," I finally decided, ignoring the lovebirds an isle across. "Containment of the secret is our top priority," I explained at his doubtful expression.

"Isn't there anything you can do right now?" he asked, clearly stressed. "You have a medical degree, right? Don't you know what to do for someone having a seizure?"

"Yeah," I nodded slowly. "For _humans_. They don't exactly have a werewolf pre-med class you can take. Technically speaking it's impossible for this to even be happening, the bite is meant to cure her epilepsy!"

He looked like he was about to snap back, but was interrupted as Scott dashed back to our sides. "What are we doing?" he asked quickly, reaching down to pluck her from my arms, hoisting her up like she weighed nothing.

"Derek," Stiles said reluctantly, peering at the shaking girl anxiously.

The wolf nodded, clutching her to his body tightly as he fled the room, casting a hard look at the camera propped up in the far corner, little red light blinking at us passively. We only ran into two other people on the way out to the parking lot, and they were easy enough to compel into forgetting we'd been seen.

We climbed into Stiles Jeep, both boys turning down my offer to run her to Derek, mumbling something about not being sure I wouldn't just leave her in the woods. I was slightly offended and glared at them, moving to take the werewolf from Scott's arms despite their stern expressions. The blonde bitch let out a piercing scream the second my hands touched her skin, and I yanked back at the sound, staring down at her with raised eyebrows.

"I-I guess she sees you as a threat or something," Scott said, holding her tighter and frowning down at her screwed up face, watching as she jerked uncontrollably in his arms.

I blinked in surprise. "She sees me as a threat?" I asked, tilting my head in consideration, a small, pleased grin appearing on my lips. "That's so sweet."

"We don't have time for your warped sense of sentimentality," Stiles snapped, cracking open his door and sliding in, yelling out the window, "Jules, you're up front. Scott, get in the back with Erica!"

We did as we were instructed, each slipping into place in our respective seats. The drive was quiet and short, the only sounds filling the cab their breathing and Erica's irritating whimpers. It was dark when we pulled up outside the sad little abandoned space Derek had his pack holed up, and we moved quickly. Derek, having heard us arrive, instantly appeared at the top of the stairs, eyes drawn to the unconscious beta in Scott's arms.

In a movement of surprising concern, Derek surged forwards, carefully ripping the blonde from Scott and racing down the stairs, back into his dirty dungeon. I considered leaving, but both boys ran after him without a second thought, and with a sigh I knew I couldn't leave them alone with the other pack, who knew what Derek might do?

They were all piled inside an old train car, the fluorescent lights above them flickering ominously. "Is she dying?" Stiles asked, Erica's head in his lap. I slipped into place beside Scott, peering down at the shaking girl.

"She might," Derek said, more stressed than I had ever seen him. He grabbed her arm, clutching it with a wince. "This is gonna hurt," he warned, and I realised a second later what he was going to do. A wonderfully sickening snap echoed through the train car, and all the present teens flinched.

"You broke her arm?!" Stiles yelled in a rage, not seeing the logic behind the action and struggling to hold onto Erica as the girl began to shriek in agony.

"It'll trigger the healing process," he explained in a loud voice so as to be heard over the screams, "I've still got to get the venom out." He squeezed her skin, nails digging into her flesh as black, poisoned blood began to drip from her with a gruesome squelch. Erica screeched, sweat breaking out on her pretty skin, cheeks red in a way mine never could be. It lasted a long minute, everyone wincing in sympathy for the girl bar myself, as I merely stared down at the scene impassively.

"Stiles," she suddenly breathed, looking up into those warm melted chocolate eyes. "You make a good batman."

An angry snarl flared in my gut, and I felt a scowl slip onto my face. I couldn't deny it was jealousy, no matter how much I wished I could. I watched with pleasure as she lost consciousness, head lolling backwards, her eyes slipping closed.

Finally, Derek decided enough of the venom had drained from her system. His claws slipped out of her skin and he wiped his bloody hands on his pants. We were all silent, nobody sure what to say. The alpha stood suddenly, turning and striding from the car. Scott shot to his feet, stumbling after the green-eyed wolf, leaving Stiles and I behind in the harsh lights of the carriage.

"She-she's gonna be okay, right?" Stiles asked after a long moment, peering up at me with wide, innocent eyes.

I shrugged, tuning out the sounds of Derek and Scott conversing outside and crouched down, folding my legs under me and lifting Erica's hand, peering at her snapped bone and bleeding wounds.

"They take longer to heal than I do," I told him quietly, my voice at detached as I felt. "So it's hard to tell if it worked. We won't know for sure for a few hours."

"Why do you hate her so much?" he asked curiously.

I hesitated. "She's a werewolf and I'm a vampire, hating her is in my job description," I said coldly, eyeing her with distaste.

"But you're friends with Scott," he argued lightly, shifting the wolf in his arms so he was more comfortable.

"Scott isn't a raging bitch."

He sighed, staring down at Erica, lost in thought. "You're a lot kinder than you make yourself appear to be," he told me quietly, and I winced at his words, silently denying them.

He could think what he wanted, I knew how stone cold I truly was.

Well, to everyone except for him.


	22. Sleepwalking

_Your eyes are swallowing me_

_Mirrors start to whisper_

_Shadows start to sing_

_My skin's smothering me_

_Help me find a way to breathe_

Sleepwalking – Bring Me The Horizon

* * *

"They were all in the same class!" Stiles exclaimed, shoving open my front door and bursting into the room. I paused where I sat on the stairs, tying the laces to my boots, glancing up at him with a raised brow.

When I didn't immediately reply he frowned, holding out his hands. "Context?" I prompted him, finishing off my left boot and moving on to my right.

"All the kanima – and it's master's – victims," he explained after a moment, eyes bright. "They were all the same age and all in the same class at Beacon Hills High."

"Why is that important?"

"Because three is a pattern!"

"You lost me again."

He sighed like he was trying to explain thermonuclear astrophysics to a toddler. "What I'm saying is that we found what connects all the victims," he said. "They were all in Harris' chemistry class."

I frowned again, crossing my arms and leaning back against the mahogany railings of my stairs. "So this has something to do with Harris?" I asked doubtfully.

He hesitated. "Well, we don't know for sure yet."

"Who's we?"

"My dad and I."

"Your father knows now?"

"Not about the supernatural. He's been looking for a way to connect the murders, and though I can't tell him everything, I was still able to find a way to help him figure out the pattern."

I paused, pressing my lips together in thought as I slid to my feet, pulling my old trench coat off the railing and slipping my arms through the sleeves, even though I knew I wouldn't feel the cold. I led him to the door, shutting in behind us and locking it as an afterthought. "Want me to compel Harris, see if I can get anything out of him?" I asked as we made our way down my driveway to where his Jeep was parked on the curb, Scott perched in the front seat, staring down at his phone.

"Yeah, actually," Stiles said, and it was clear the idea hadn't occurred to him yet, although he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it. I nodded, pulling open the door and jumping up into the worn, comfortable seat.

"Hey Juliet," Scott mumbled, and I glanced over his shoulder at his phone, noting that he was on eBay, searching for some kind of tickets.

"What are the tickets for?" I asked in lieu of a greeting, and the teen wolf didn't have it in him to be annoyed, merely sighing in something like defeat.

"I followed Jackson last night, he bought tickets to this underground party thing that's happening tonight. Nobody's selling anymore, and we can't find any anywhere," he told me.

"And we need to be there because...?" I asked as Stiles started the engine, steering the car towards the main road.

"We're sure it's where he'll attack the next victim."

"Right," I nodded, crossing one leather clad leg over the other and peering out the window thoughtfully. "And why can't I just compel us inside?"

"We thought of that," Stiles spoke up as he indicated, driving through the gap in the traffic. "They only sold a certain number of tickets, and they're giving wristbands at the door. If we can't get the wristbands and we get caught inside without them, we'll get thrown out."

"But-" I began to argue, seeing the flaws in their plan.

"We also thought that they might have vervain," Scott added. "With the hunter reinforcements in town, it's probably only a matter of time before they start sneaking vervain into the water supply or something."

"The point is, we don't know if we can rely on compulsion. We have to have a plan B," Stiles said over his shoulder, and I had to begrudgingly admit he had a point.

"At least we have Derek and the others on our side now," his friend spoke up, seeming relieved at the thought. I cringed, remembering the deal Scott made with the alpha: to work together to get the kanima. It was hard enough dealing with one werewolf, let alone a whole pack. "There's gotta be some way to get tickets, right?" he asked after a moment as Stiles pulled into the school parking lot, miraculously scoring a park close to the entrance.

"It's a secret show, there's only one way," Stiles replied, shouldering his bag and letting the driver's door slam shut. "And it's a _secret_."

"Hey!" a voice asked from beside us, and I adjusted the bag on my shoulder, glancing over at the kid with a bored expression. "Do any of you three know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day at school?"

"Just forget about it; nobody got hurt," Stiles shrugged, clearing not bothering with the conversation.

"I had a concussion."

"Nobody got _seriously_ hurt."

"I was in the ER for _six hours_."

"Do you wanna know the truth Matt? Your little bump on the head is about _this _high on our list of problems right now!" my friend exclaimed, gesturing to several inches off the ground. I smirked proudly at the bite in his voice, and crossed my arms, regarding the dark haired, butt-hurt teen with disinterest.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked compassionately, and Stiles rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Matt responded with a sigh. "So you didn't get any tickets last night either?" he asked conversationally.

"Are they still selling?"

"No, but I managed to find two online. You should keep trying, sounds like everyone's going to be there."

He turned and with a small, polite smile, made his way back towards the side of the school. "I don't like him," Stiles growled, not even waiting until he was out of hearing distance before speaking. I had to agree; he seemed harmless enough, but then again, at first glance, so did Klaus. "Are you sure about this?" he asked suddenly, turning to Scott with desperate eyes.

"Last time, whoever's controlling Jackson had to kill somebody. He didn't finish the job, so what do you think he's going to do this time?" Scott asked seriously.

"Be there to make sure it happens," he responded with a scowl.

"Well, that'll be particularly hard for him," I said casually, crossing my arms over my chest and arching an eyebrow pointedly. "Since we'll be there to make sure it doesn't."

* * *

"Is it true that Isaac beat up a couple of kids in the locker room because one of them said his mother was a whore and the other threatened to tell everyone he has mouth herpes?" I asked eagerly, slipping into place beside Stiles at the lunch table we occupied most days, picking up his lemonade bottle and taking a sip, enjoying the way it fizzled on my tongue. I nodded at Scott in greeting, and he smiled back sweetly.

"What the-" Stiles began, half choking on the chip in his mouth. After a moment of coughing and an apathetic clap on the back from me, he continued. "No! Well, the part about the mother insult and herpes thing, he _did _kick the crap out of some guys in the locker room though."

"Why?" I asked confusedly, swallowing another mouthful of drink.

"To score us _these_," he replied, reaching into the bag at his feet and searching around in it's depths for something. He frowned when he didn't immediately find what he was looking for, ducking under the table to peer into the bag more closely. Finally, after a long, anti-climatic minute, be reappeared, three slips of paper in his hand.

I narrowed my eyes at the objects, head tilting as I observed them. "Tickets to the rave?"

"_Rave_? What is this, 2005?" he asked sarcastically. "It's a _party_."

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes, watching as he pocketed the tickets carefully, like they were made of gold.

"Listen," Scott said suddenly, leaning over the table so I could hear him whisper, apparently forgetting I had supernatural hearing. "Stiles and I are going to the clinic after school, we're going to talk to Deaton about a good offence, something to help us tonight."

"Four betas, an alpha and a two-centuries old vampire won't be enough?"

"It wasn't the last two times."

"...Fair enough."

It was quiet, the boys shovelling food into their mouths, Stiles turning his attention to his half finished homework laying on the table before him, scribbling down the remains of an essay he should have had completed days ago. I leaned back in the chair, turning my gaze to the room, peering uninterestedly at the gathered crowd.

I took a deep breath in, registering the aching burn in my throat, telling me I needed to feed on the blood I could smell. I, as always, pushed the instinct away, clinging to my humanity with everything I had, not willing to let go for even a second, too afraid I would lose myself, and by extension, Stiles.

* * *

"Do you think I can do it?"

I looked over at Stiles, raising an eyebrow as I picked up on the sound of his racing heart. Sensing that I was making him uncomfortable, I looked away, focusing on pulling at the skin-tight material of my leather pants. We'd stopped by my house so I could get changed, Stiles making me wear heels, which I found odd, despite his insistence that I had to 'look the part'. I'd caught him staring at my legs more than once, however.

Now we were on our way to Stiles' home, where the kid would get changed and pick up what he needed for the night.

I knew what Stiles was talking about, of course. We'd just come from the clinic, and after an intense conversation with Deaton, I wasn't surprised that Stiles was doubting his ability to carry through with the plan, doubting his ability to be exactly what we needed.

"There's absolutely nobody I would trust more to do this," I finally answered, with complete honesty. "If anyone can be the spark we need," I said, recalling the veterinarian's previous words, "it's _you_, Stiles."

His heart stuttered in his chest, but I politely ignored it, staring out into the darkening sky and finding myself hoping it would rain. Although I had complete faith in Stiles, I _was_ somewhat worried about him. The plan called for us to be apart, and Stiles to be alone, meaning he would be unprotected and vulnerable. I just hoped I had the strength to keep from rushing to his side at the first hint of danger.

"Thank you."

I looked over at him, watching as he stared at the road, hands tightening on the steering wheel. "For what?" I asked, blinking at him through the dark.

"Just..." he trailed off, clearly having trouble putting what he felt into words. "Just being _you_, I guess." I was quiet, not sure how to respond. "That sounded less weird in my head. I didn't mean it-I mean, of course I _meant_ it, I just didn't mean it to sound like something from a-"

I pressed my lips together to conceal a smile threatening to appear on my red painted lips as I reached across the seats, grabbing the hand clutching the gear-stick, and pulling it back across into my lap, both my hands wrapping around his warm palm, unthinkingly threading his fingers through mine.

Stiles made an odd wheezing sound from the back of his throat, and his hand was slightly clammy, but I didn't find any of it off-putting, instead enjoying the way his heart raced in his chest and his breath sped up. It was endearing, and in a way, fascinating, watching how flustered he got from simply having his hand held.

I was contemplating what he would do if I pressed my lips to the skin on his palm when he pulled into his driveway, turning the car off but not moving an inch. I stared at him through the darkness, a smile pulling at the edges of my lips as I absentmindedly counted the freckles splattered across his pale cheek.

"I should go," he mumbled, though not moving an inch.

"We _are_ on a clock here," I pointed out with a light-hearted smirk.

He remained frozen.

Deciding I had to be the one to make the first move, I squeezed his hand once before slowly picking it up and dragging it gently back into his lap, finally letting go then crossing my arms over my chest. Stiles took a long, deep breath before nodding to himself and all but flying from the car and into his house, dropping the keys twice in his haste to open the front door.

I had no idea what I was doing. I _knew_ without a doubt that having these _feelings_ for Stiles was beyond wrong. I was old, and evil, and he was young and good, and that was just the beginning of the incompatibility. I mean, sure, I'd been told that opposites attract, that they balance each other out or something, but was that me and Stiles?

What if something did happen, what if the _worst_ thing happened and I fell for him? What would my options be? Turn him or watch him grow old and die. I couldn't do either of those things. I wouldn't do either of those things.

I was lost in my thoughts, distracted, but eventually Stiles stumbled out the front door just as an unfamiliar, unmarked car was pulling into the spot beside the Jeep. I instinctively pressed myself against the seat, all but melting into the shadows to remain unseen.

"Hey! Can't talk, gotta run!" Stiles said hurriedly, jogging passed his father, keys in hand, only to suddenly freeze. "Wait, what's wrong?"

I frowned, looking over the sheriff with a critical eye. His shoulders were slumped and his face drawn with defeat and exhaustion. He looked like a broken man, and my new-found emotions almost ached for him without even knowing what was wrong.

I felt guilty for eavesdropping, even though there was nothing I could do to stop myself from hearing; I was too close to avoid it.

I compensated by staring in the opposite direction, that way if the man glanced my way it would appear I wasn't paying attention. I listened with a heavy chest as the (now former) sheriff explained that he was no longer part of the force, taking a 'leave of absence' that was 'temporary'. I didn't have to hear his heartbeat to know that part was a lie. I winced, jaw clenching in anger and pain as I listened to Stiles choke up in response, then sniffle rather sadly while the garage door slowly slid shut.

It was a good two minutes before he got back in the car, frown on his lips as he started the engine and steered us out onto the road. We both knew that I'd heard everything, but the last thing I wanted to do was bring it up. It would only make him uncomfortable, and he might even shed another tear, what the fuck would I do then?

I decided, in the end, that I had no choice. Ignoring the matter was crueler than the alternative, and the last thing I wanted to be was cruel.

Mostly.

"Are you okay?" I asked tentatively, wincing at how meek I sounded.

He took a deep, steadying breath before replying. "No."

I nodded, having expected that answer. "In the morning I'll go down to the station, find the person in charge and fix this," I told him surely, spinning in the seat to face him, watching the side of his face on the off chance he would turn to look at me.

"No."

I frowned in confusion. "What do you _mean_ 'no'?"

"The supernatural got him into this mess," he muttered brokenly. "It doesn't seem right to use the supernatural to get him out of it."

I wanted to argue, but I knew how stubborn he could be. Instead I sighed, accepting his answer and turning back to the front, staring blankly out at the darkness. We were silent for the rest of the drive to Scott's house, then silent again after picking the wolf up, much to his confusion.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked once we'd arrived at the warehouse, unable to stand the silence any longer.

"Yeah, why?" Stiles asked, cracking open the trunk and reaching forwards to grab a bag of mountain ash.

"You didn't say anything on the way here," he explained with a shrug.

"I'm fine," he lied. "Can one of you just grab the other bag?"

"I can't, remember? Deaton said said you have to do it alone."

"Okay, this plan is really starting to suck."

"No," Scott suddenly mumbled, staring off into the distance. I tilted my head, sniffing lightly out of instinct. I was downwind from Allison, so I caught a hint of her unique scent almost instantly, and I rolled my eyes. "Not here, not now!" The boy rushed off in his love's direction, leaving Stiles and I to roll our eyes.

"_Scott_! What am I suppose to-?" Stiles yelled after him, before sighing defeatedly. "This plan officially sucks."

"I'd offer my help but..." I trailed off uncomfortably, gesturing to the bags of mountain ash sitting in the trunk.

"Yeah," he nodded, rubbing the crease between his eyebrows tiredly. "I'll be fine, you go inside and try to meet up with the wonder twins, see where they're at and maybe scan the perimeter for any sign of Jackson, human _or _lizard."

I turned to go, but paused, spinning back around to look at him. "For the record," I said, making his glance up at me in surprise. "You make better plans than anybody."

He grinned, mood lifting for a moment before I turned around, moving towards the door that the music was thundering out from. I approached it, mentally rolling up my sleeves and steadying myself. A room full of writhing, sweating humans, just what I needed. The place would reek of pheromones, I could smell it even from outside.

With a heavy sigh I stalked forwards, heels clicking on the cement as I approached the bouncer. He appraised me with a suspicious eye, and I was grateful that I didn't have to concentrate enough to use compulsion, merely showing him my ticket, gaining my wristband and entering the loud, colourfully lit room.

It wasn't easy moving five feet into the space, let alone scour it for Jackson or the two betas I was looking for. I shoved my way through the crowd, sometimes having to go so far as to lift a stubborn teen into the air and forcefully move them out of the way. I grumbled to myself unintelligently, using mostly curse words as my heightened sight cut through the shadows, looking for the any sign of my target.

"Be careful."

"I doubt it'll even slightly hurt him."

"I mean you. I don't want you to get hurt."

It wasn't Jackson, but it was the next best thing. I headed straight for the pair of werewolves murmuring to each other by a stone pillar. "What's the plan?" I asked, seeming to appear next to them from thin air. Isaac jumped, and Scott flinched, both spinning around to look at me.

"We could actually probably use you," Scott said suddenly.

"The words every girl dreams of hearing," I retorted slyly, and he was too focused to even roll his eyes.

"You have a sort of natural allure as a vampire, right?" Scott asked eagerly, scanning the crowd in case anyone was listening then staring back at me.

"Are you calling me pretty?" I asked with a grin, only to frown when he scowled. "Right," I nodded awkwardly. "Not the time. Carry on."

"Isaac needs to get close to Jackson to inject him with the serum," he explained.

"Why's _he_ doing it?"

"Because the Argents are here."

"The _Argents_ are here?!"

"It's a long story-"

"Then make it shorter."

He sighed, but complied to my order. "Allison told her dad and Gerard about Jackson, they have a plan of their own and they're here to carry it out."

I swore under my breath, gritting my teeth and glaring at a random girl in the crowd, taking pleasure in the way she moved away uncomfortably. "There are only so many of us," I hissed, knowing both wolves could hear perfectly. "We can't take down Jackson _and_ keep the Argents busy."

"We have to try," Scott replied with conviction.

"I'll text Derek," Isaac interjected, pulling out his phone and beginning to type. "He and Boyd can stall the hunters, at least for a while."

"Good," Scott nodded, glancing over his shoulder at something I couldn't see from this angle. "I have to go," he said, before pausing and turning to me. "Be careful," he told me seriously. "It would destroy Stiles to lose you."

Before I could question his words he was gone, lost in the sea of panting, sweating, gyrating youths. I grimaced, deciding to file that away for later and spinning around to face Isaac.

"What's the plan?" he asked before I could get a word out.

Great, why the hell did all these kids think I always knew what I was doing?

"We find Jackson," I said with way more confidence than I actually had. "I'll distract him and you wait for an opportunity to jam that needle into his slimy neck."

"Got it."

Erica appeared by our side a moment later, and though she curled her lip in disgust when she spotted me, a few muttered words from Isaac had her centred and concentrated, focused on the task at hand. She told us she'd seen him only a minute before, heading towards the DJ.

He wasn't hard to find after that, it was easy to find him since he was the only person not dancing, he stood out from the crowd.

I felt my posture change, pure instinct driving me as I held my head high and pushed out my chest, making my cleavage stand out in the flashing lights. A sultry smile spread across my blood red lips, and my eyes turned into pools of swirling, forest green. I stepped out in front of Jackson, my arms wrapping around his neck, my leg hooking around his hip. I exhaled gently onto his ear, and he froze, heart hammering in his chest. His skin was cool to the touch, not as ice cold as mine, but enough to be noticeable.

I rolled my hips against him in time to the beat of the music, and his hands shot up to grasp at my waist. I wondered whether he was more human or snake in that moment, but in the end it didn't matter.

He pulled away suddenly, turning back to the speakers lining the back of the warehouse, but my fingers curled around his shoulder, using enhanced strength to yank him back to me. His blank expression dropped into a dark glare, and he tugged away from me once more.

With a frustrated huff I forced him back to me, this time capturing his lips with my own. Instantly he sagged, all the fight to get away gone from within him. His lips were firm and moist as they moved against mine in a forceful way. I sighed into his mouth, and he took it as one of pleasure, when in reality it was annoyance. He was an aggressive kisser, and while, ordinarily, I would enjoy that sort of thing, I found myself longing for something softer, something human, someone shy and inexperienced with brown eyes and freckles...

Suddenly Jackson dropped to the floor. In a panic I grabbed him, hands hooking under his arms as I effortlessly held him up. I glanced at Isaac who stood beside us, needle in hand, surprise that it had worked spread clear as day across his face. I glanced at Erica, who looked just as shocked.

I rolled my eyes at how pathetically useless the two wolves were, not caring how suspicious it looked for a 5" girl to be carrying a 6" guy and throwing an unconscious Jackson over my shoulder.

"Where?" I grunted roughly.

"Storage unit," Erica said. "This way."

She and Isaac led the way, shoving dancing teenagers out of my path, allowing me to walk through to the edge of the crowd. People standing along the walls started to look at me oddly, so I shoved Jackson into a surprised Isaac's arms, gesturing for him to hold him and keep walking.

My phone began to vibrate in my back pocket, and with an impatient huff I tugged it out, pressing the green button and holding it to my ear. "Yeah?" I asked, hoping whatever it was wasn't urgent so I could get away quickly.

"_We have a serious problem_," Stiles said through the line, and I internally sighed. Nothing was ever easy.

"Are you okay?" was my first question, and the most important one, as far as I was concerned.

"_I don't have enough of this stupid fairy dust crap to complete the circle and Scott isn't answering his phone_!"

I paused, mulling over his words.

"_Well_?!" he prompted me desperately. "_What the_ hell _am I supposed to do_?!"

"Juliet!" Erica hissed from beside me, gesturing to where Isaac had just disappeared down a hallway with Jackson.

"Look," I began seriously, striding across the floor and stepping into an alcove. "This is going to sound stupid but it's the only thing I know to say. You need to believe, Stiles."

"..._Believe_?" he asked incredulously.

"In my two hundred years, I've seen a fair few things, and I've learnt a hell of a lot more. Out of all the smart things smart people have ever said, one I know without a doubt is true, and that is that imagination-"

"-_is more important than knowledge_," he finished, suddenly sounding more confident than I expected him to.

"Juliet!" Erica hissed again, glaring daggers at me from the entrance to the hallway.

"I believe in you, Stiles," I blurted hurriedly. "I'll always believe in you."

There wasn't anything else I could say, so I hung up, all but shoving my phone into my pocket and darting across the room and into the hall, following the wolves' scents until I found myself in a storage unit.

"I tried to find some zip-ties or something but they seem to be fresh out," Isaac said once I'd slipped into the room, peering at Jackson who sat blissfully unconscious in an uncomfortable looking chair.

"He doesn't look like he'll be waking up any time soon," I shrugged indifferently.

"It would be so much simpler to just kill him now, while he's defenceless," Erica grumbled, and though I knew she had a point, I wouldn't allow myself to consider it an option.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slid it free again, reading the text I'd received from Stiles asking where we were. I replied in a clipped sentence, and only moments later he was bursting through the door to the right, making Erica jump to attack.

"Whoa, it's just me! It's just me!" Stiles shouted, arms held out to defend himself in necessary. He sighed as the bitch stepped back, straightening his flannel and moving to stand beside me, almost as an afterthought. He assessed Jackson carefully, watching for any hint of consciousness. Suddenly his heart rate spiked, and he spun around to glare at me accusingly. "Did you _kiss him_?"

I shouldn't have felt as embarrassed as I did, but I scowled to cover it up, crossing my arms over my chest and facing him. "What?" I asked dumbly, deciding to play it safe.

"Your lipstick," he grunted like it pained him. "It's smudged on his lips."

Stiles: ever the detective. "I needed to distract him," I shrugged.

"So you _kissed_ him?!" he countered incredulously.

"Now isn't the time for your lovers spat," Erica growled, and Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, but ultimately agreeing.

"Is he okay?" he asked reluctantly, eyes narrowed at a comatose Jackson.

"Well, let's find out," Isaac said, stepping closer to the kanima. He flicked his wrist and his razor sharp claws appeared as he swiped down, aiming for the face, probably just to wake him up and see if he was really out of it. Before any of us knew what had happened Jackson's hand shot out, grasping Isaac's with disturbing accuracy, considering his eyes were still tightly shut. The beta groaned in pain, bending at the knees as he twisted his appendage.

"Okay, no one does _anything_ like that again," Stiles instructed sternly once the kanima had finally let go of Isaac's arm, the boy scrambling out of reach the second he was free.

"I thought it was supposed to put him out!" Isaac hissed, grabbing his bruised wrist in pain.

"Yeah, well apparently this is all we're going to get. So let's just hope that whoever's controlling him just decided to show up tonight."

"I'm here," Jackson said, though I knew instantly it wasn't the star lacrosse player talking. "I'm right here with you.

Stiles froze, staring at the kanima with horror. "Jackson, is that you?" he asked tentatively, stepping closer to the unconscious boy. I reached out, fingers curling around a handful of his hoodie, desperate to keep him close.

"Us," he droned. "We're all here."

Stiles glanced over his shoulder, meeting my eyes. I nodded reassuringly, seeing the indecision in his eyes. "Are you the one killing people?" he asked, turning back to the snake.

"We're the ones killing _murderers_."

"So then all the people you've killed so far..."

"Deserved it."

"See, we've got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers," Stiles said, appearing calm though his heart was racing wildly.

"Anything can break if enough pressure's applied."

"Alright, so the people you're killing are all murderers then?"

"All. Each and every one."

"Well who did they murder?"

"_Me._"

Stiles paused, and we all waited silently, only gaining more questions than answers. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"They murdered _me_." His eyes morphed into reptilian slits, changing to a shining orange. I tugged Stiles behind me the instant I noticed the change, unwilling to let him be in danger for even a moment. He didn't protest, letting me shift in front of him protectively. A glance down to Jackson's hands confirmed my worries; his fingers had turned scaly, dagger like claws protruding in place of nails.

"We need more!" Stiles insisted, referring to the drug we'd used to subdue Jackson.

"We don't have any more," Isaac mumbled.

"You used the whole bottle?"

Before either of them could say anything else, the kanima was on two feet, face half covered in green scales. It opened it's mouth and let out a snarl, revealing menacing rows of pointy, grey teeth. "Out. Now," Stiles shouted, all but shoving us out the door. I let myself be tugged along, preferring to stay close to Stiles' side. "In front of the door!" he commanded, and immediately I pressed my hands against the wood. Nothing would get through.

Then it burst through the metal wall beside us like it was made of paper, charging full speed into the depths of the warehouse.

"We need to find it," I growled, pushing away from the door and facing my three companions. "Do a sweep of the area, don't attack if you find him, just keep tabs until we can all come together. No one will be able to take him down alone, so don't be stupid enough to try."

Though they didn't look happy to be taking orders from me, the two betas nodded and scurried off down the hallway, back into the thick of the party. "What should I do?" Stiles asked nervously, hands twisting together in front of him.

"Go outside, get across the mountain ash line."

"We don't even know if it worked-"

"It's the best chance we have at keeping you safe," I growled.

"I can help you-"

"By staying_ safe_," I cut him off with a serious expression. I glanced to the right where I heard footsteps moving towards our location. "I'll meet you outside in one minute." Then I disappeared from his sight, scanning the club at top speeds, going so fast the kanima couldn't even catch me. My senses were somewhat dulled by the loud music, flashing lights and overpowering stench of sweat and arousal, so it was incredibly difficult to find anything, let alone a camouflaging lizard.

With a frustrated sigh I left the party, materialising at the main entrance, breathing in the blissfully clean night air. I spotted Stiles standing a few paces away beside Derek, and as usual my first instinct was to move to his side. I barely got three steps before I was stopped by an invisible barrier. It wasn't so much like a wall as it was like the identical sides of two magnets trying to touch. No matter how I forced my hand past, I just couldn't get through.

"Oh my _God_, it's working!" Stiles exclaimed, and though I loathed being trapped, I was immensely proud of the brown-eyed boy for being able to complete his allocated task so well. "_Yes_, I did something!"

My lips twitched up into a smile, but before I could say anything a pained, heart-wrenching howl echoed through the surrounding area, easily heard over the thrashing music.

"Scott," Derek muttered, meeting my eyes for a beat. "Break it," he instructed Stiles gruffly.

"What?" he asked incredulously. "_No way_!"

"Scott's _dying_!"

"Okay, what? How do you know that?"

"Stiles! I just _know_! Break it!" he shouted furiously.

Stiles still hesitated, glancing up at me unsurely. "He's telling the truth!" I told him sincerely, and though he looked upset at doing so, he leant forwards and fanned his hands over the line of mountain ash, breaking it easily.

"Come on!" the alpha urged me, dashing passed, desperate to get to Scott.

"Wait!" I countered, whole body freezing.

"We don't have time-"

"Blood," I said, eyes widening. The place may have stunk of pheromones, but vampires were like sharks, we could smell blood from miles away, no matter the circumstances. "It's human," I added at Stiles' alarmed expression.

"Go!" he shouted at us both, and with a nod each of us disappeared, heading for opposite ends of the warehouse, each on a deathly important mission.

It was easy enough to find the body. The second it was in sight I knew that the girl was gone from this world. Her eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling, blood pooled around her head from the slices in her neck. I hated myself for how hungry the sight left me, and I knelt beside her, softly closing her lids so she looked like she was sleeping. I didn't particularly care, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

With a sigh I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialling 911 and leaving an anonymous tip that there was a dead body at the stupid party.

I felt useless, I came to protect the humans and I couldn't even do that.

I huffed, pushing myself back to my feet. With a final glance at the corpse, and turned and headed home, desperate for a bath and a glass of A-positive.


	23. Absolution

_Run boy be a man_

_With legs too weak to make a stand_

_We're all crucified in the end_

_Can you hear a voice_

_Decipher it through all this noise_

_You'll be left with nothing again_

Absolution – The Pretty Reckless

* * *

It was ironic that my most and least favourite colour was blood red.

Despite my mixed feelings on the shade, I painted it onto my lips, rubbing them together to make an even texture. I heard the tyres on the asphalt and the familiar creak of the brakes of Stiles' Jeep, and made a mental note to remind him to check the brake pads. I threw my leather jacket over a short, strapless mint dress that I'd dug out from the depths of my closet and shoved some dangly gold earrings in my pierced ears in an attempt at classing up my outfit. I slipped my feet into the black heeled boots I loved so much, eternally grateful for my enhanced sense of balance.

I figured that I wouldn't need anything, so I merely shoved my phone in the breast pocket of my jacket and made my way downstairs, slipping out the front door, locking it behind me and appearing in the passenger seat of the Jeep just as Stiles was preparing to get out to come fetch me.

"_Jesus_," he shrieked when the sound of the door clicking shut met his ears and he noticed me sitting beside him.

"I prefer to go by Juliet," I responded cheekily, tilting my head and smirking widely.

His heart was racing from the shock, but I was surprised when it didn't immediately slow to a regular speed, instead only speeding up more as he stared at me.

"What?" I asked self-consciously, smirk melting into a concerned frown.

He cleared his throat, blinking quickly before his gaze darted to my still lawn. "Nothing," he lied, but I was willing to let it go, doubting it was anything serious. He took my silence as disapproval, and sighed, wincing as he elaborated. "You've just never worn your hair like that," he said, toying with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of his flannel as he referred to the way all my hair except my bangs was pinned in an artfully messy bun at the back of my head.

"Allison said the attire was smart-casual," I said, eyeing his wardrobe choice. Was this one of those practical joke things the kids these days loved so much?

"It looks good," his voice broke slightly on the last word, and I charitably ignored it. His words were obviously meant to reassure me, and I let it, shrugging as he pulled out of the drive, heading onto the main road, out of the slumps and towards the fancy side of town. "So they brought Harris in for questioning," he told me after a beat, heart rate slowly returning to normal.

"Why?"

"Because they found evidence that put him at the scene of three of the murders," he replied.

I paused. "I don't think it's him."

"Me either."

"I'm not going to help him out though."

"Me neither," he was silent for a moment, turning up the heat and holding his hand in front of the vent for a moment. "There's more."

"Oh boy," I muttered, turning more in the seat to look at him, giving him my full attention.

"We figured out how all the victims are connected."

I grimaced when he didn't elaborate. "And?" I prompted eagerly.

"They were all on the swim team."

I didn't say anything for a moment, processing his words. "What about Lahey?"

"He was the coach," he told me.

I considered his words, something occurring to me. "It's awfully ironic that whoever is controlling the kanima has a fear of water _and_ everyone they're killing was on the _swim_ team," I said, and he nodded in agreement.

"It can't be a coincidence."

We were quiet, the only sounds filling the cab of the Jeep were Stiles' heartbeat and the soft tinkling of the jazz coming from the speakers. I did a double-take, eyes narrowing at the sound system thoughtfully. "Is this Sonny Rollins?" I asked a moment later, head tilting as I listened with consideration. "Since when do you listen to smooth jazz?"

I glanced at Stiles curiously, only to see familiar red blotches appear on his pale, freckle-splattered skin. "I know it's your one of your favourites, so I've been researching a bit. I found this great local station that plays jazz 24/7, I figured you'd enjoy it," he shrugged like it was no big deal.

But it was.

He'd noticed something about me, then he'd found out everything he could about my interest and went to the trouble of changing his daily routine to do something nice for me. His blotchy patches hadn't faded yet, so I decided a change of subject would be the best course of action, lest things get uncomfortable.

"Are we going to mention the elephant in the room?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Stiles jerked the wheel to the left, sending us into the opposite lane for a moment before he regained control and veered back into the correct side, the car behind him honking loudly. "What?" he asked sketchily, glancing over at me with wide eyes and pretending the entire thing didn't just happened.

To my credit, I didn't show how alarmed I felt, merely raising an eyebrow in question. I hesitated before speaking up, wondering what the hell exactly was going on. "The massive box in the backseat?" I prompted cautiously, wondering if he was going to have yet another overdramatic reaction.

"Oh!" he breathed, seeming relieved by my words. I frowned, filing that away for later. "It's Lydia's birthday present. What'd you get her?"

"Nothing," I replied simply, giving a careless shrug.

He shot me an appalled look. "You're going to her birthday party, and you're not even taking her a gift?"

"So sue me," I muttered offendedly, crossing my arms and staring out the window into the dark night.

"I don't get it," he said suddenly, checking over his shoulder before switching lanes. "Why do you hate her so much?"

I was reminded of our conversation about Erica only days before, and I found myself annoyed that I had to keep defending my opinions about the people around me. "Uh, she's shallow and vapid," I said easily, lip curling at the mere thought of the girl.

"Yeah, at first glance," he said defensively, hands tightening on the wheel. "But on first impression, you're not very likeable either." I glared irritably, but he barrelled on, oblivious as always. "I mean, _completely_ unlikeable. You don't seem to have _any_ redeemable qualities other than your looks. Seriously, you just come across as plain _awful_-"

"I get it," I snapped, hands balling into angry fists, crossing one bare leg over the other, sending him a death glare through the dark cab.

"My _point_ is," he continued seriously, glancing at me for no more than a second before returning his gaze to the road. "You seem like that at first, but then you get to know you and you're full of compassion. I mean, sure, you have a weird kink for torture and you get this weird smile every time someone mentions being in pain, but you're only like that with people who – kind of – deserve it. When it comes to friends, and innocents, you have this incredible compassion that's like nothing I've ever seen. And you're loyal, I've never met anyone so loyal. You're a vampire who's part of a werewolf pack, because you formed a friendship with a beta, and you're protecting your friends and all the things they hold dear.

"It's crazily brave, everything you do. I mean, one bite from one of them and you're gone, but you still stay. And you're strong. I mean, a vampire on a diet? I can't imagine how hard it is to resist blood, to resist killing people when every instinct in you is screaming to do the opposite..."

He trailed off, staring at the road in front of us with a far-off look in his eyes. I wondered whether it was safe for him to be so distracted, but he seemed to be driving in a straight line well enough, so I let it go.

Now that I had a second to process, I had to stop myself from panicking.

What the fuck just happened?

One minute we were talking about Lydia and how much I disliked her, the next he was listing all the things he...admired about me? It was a strange direction for the conversation to go, and I couldn't help the warm glow I felt in my gut at it. He really noticed things about me, picked up on things I didn't even know I was putting out. I stared down at my hands, a small smile growing on my lips. I could have stopped it and forced my usual impassive stare onto my face. But I decided to allow myself the small pleasure of a smile for once.

Although Stiles was clearly distracted, he managed to drive us to Lydia's house without incident, pulling up on the curb outside her house and turning off the ignition, hands going limp in his lap.

"Stiles?" I asked hesitantly, reaching across the cab to lightly touch his shoulder. His head snapped towards me, and he blinked, eyes alight with despair and confusion. I frowned worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"What?" he asked dumbly, caramel eyes focused on me.

"We're at Lydia's house," I said, and he glanced back out the windscreen, seeming surprised that we were at our destination.

"Lydia!" he said suddenly, eyes wide. He tried to rip off his seatbelt, but it got stuck, and he tugged at it frantically, trying to get free. Still frowning, I reached across and hit the button calmly, watching as it clicked open smoothly. He didn't stop or even thank me, merely tripping from the car and moving to the back, taking the large present from the backseat and hoisting it up in his arms. "Are you coming or what, Juliet?" he asked loudly, and I cringed at the way he said my name.

I slipped from the Jeep gracefully, heels clicking on the pavement as I made my way up to the front door, following the path Stiles had taken.

He stopped at the door, realising he didn't have enough hands to ring the doorbell _and_ hold the oversized wrapped gift. "Can-can you?" he asked, bobbing his head towards the bell.

I sighed, rolling my eyes and pressing the button, listening as the sound echoed through the house.

"_Happy birthday_," he sang the moment the door was pulled open, lowering the box just enough so you could spot his face, a bright grin on his face, though I felt like it was covering something heavier. I wanted to ask what was wrong, but we were in neither the right time or place. "I'm coming in," he announced, stepping forwards, only to be blocked, the door being narrower than the present in his arms. "Uh-hang on," he muttered with a concentrated frown, shoving the box through the doorway, the wrapping crinkling as he forced it.

Lydia closed her eyes, clearly praying for patience. Maybe we weren't so different after all. "Don't forget to try the punch!" she called, turning around and strutting from the room, leaving Stiles to struggle all by his lonesome.

I stepped forwards, pressing my hand to the side next to his face and giving it a hard shove. Stiles, still attached to the box, stumbled through the door, dropping it on the ground. He pushed it out of the way, dusted his hands off with a satisfied smile then turned to walk into the house.

"Stiles?" I asked, he paused then turned around, seeming almost reluctant to do so.

"Yeah?" he asked with forced casualness.

My only reply was to press my hand against the barrier preventing me from entering the home, my skin fanning out like it was being pressed to glass, although it was merely air.

"_Oh_," he mumbled in realisation.

"Are we going to call her back so she can invite me in, or...?"

His hands shot to his hips as he assessed the situation. "It might make her suspicious," he said with a frown.

"And me standing out in the cold during her party won't?" I countered with raised eyebrows.

"Go around back," he finally suggested, pointing to the edge of the house and the small gate that sat there. "I think it'll mostly be held in the backyard, and you can go there without an invite, right?"

"Should be fine," I nodded, turning around without further comment and walking around the side, pushing open the small metal gate and walking through the damp grass until I made my way into the backyard, hands tucked into the pockets of my leather jacket.

There weren't as many people in attendance as Stiles had made it seem like there would be. I could count the amount of people there on my hands, and the ones I could name on only my left.

Allison.

"Hi," I greeted her politely, walking at an agonisingly slow, human pace to meet her where she stood by the pool.

"Oh thank God," she said upon seeing me, a small, forced smile on her lips. "Finally someone I can stand."

"I know how you feel," I muttered, gazing at the tiny group of strangers with contempt. "The snake here yet?" I asked, instinctively sniffing the air to see if I could pick up his usual overpowering cologne.

"No," she replied. "Not yet, anyway." She sighed tiredly, running a hand over her hair to smooth away any errant strands. "Did you come with Stiles?"

"Yeah."

"I love what you're wearing, by the way. It's classy, but it's still_ you_."

"Are you implying that I'm not inherently classy?" I asked in a tight tone, eyes dark, making her own eyes widen, actually worried she'd offended me. "I'm kidding," I chuckled suddenly, allowing a small smile to grace by blood red lips.

"There're the boys," she said, a small smile on her lips too, though it quickly disappeared from existence. "Uh, Jackson's not here," she muttered to them once we'd gotten within hearing range, both boys nodding.

"No one's here," Stiles commented, and I had to admit he was correct.

"Maybe it's just early," Scott suggested weakly.

"Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia's turning into the town _whack-job_," he countered scathingly, and I didn't bother hiding the smirk that appeared on my lips.

"Well we have to do something, because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks," Allison, ever the kind one, said, gaze sliding to where the girl stood all alone, a tray full of punch in her palm.

"She's completely ignored Stiles the last ten _years_," Scott retorted, and my smirk only grew.

"I prefer to think of it as me not having been on her radar yet..."

"We don't owe her a party," he continued, ignoring his best friend, and I wholeheartedly agreed.

"What about the chance to get back to normal?"

"Normal?"

"She wouldn't be the town whack-job if it wasn't for us," she said, a crease appearing on the smooth skin between her brows.

"I _guess_ I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here," he relented with a sigh, cringing at the thought.

"Yeah, I also know some people who could get this thing going. Like, _really _going," Stiles said, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

"Who?"

"I met them the other night. Let's just say they know how to party."

They all looked at me expectantly, and I raised my eyebrows, confused. "What?" I asked obliviously. Stiles' expression flattened into a pointed frown and I realised what they were waiting for. "Hate to break it to you, but the only places I go are home and school. I don't exactly have a wide network. Or any network. My network is the people on this deck."

"That's so sad," Stiles mumbled sympathetically, and I curled back my lip slightly, exposing the tips of my fangs and shooting him a lethal glare. His heart stuttered and he wandered away, pressing his phone up to his ear, trying to look more busy than he actually was.

Damn kid.

* * *

"So anyway, then the lady says to me 'Sir, you can't smoke that in here, not only is it against regulation, it's illegal'."

I didn't bother faking interest, merely sipping my punch and staring across the yard at Stiles, who was talking animatedly to Scott.

I couldn't help but admire the way his cheeks flushed as he gestured dramatically. He was so very...alive. He was the opposite of me in almost every way, so it was odd that I found myself so attracted to him.

Was that what it was? Attraction?

It was good to finally put a word to what I was experiencing.

Sure, I'd been through it before with countless people over the years, but it'd never been like this before. At least, not since Klaus. I suppose there hadn't been anyone in my life since I'd flicked the humanity switch, so now I was experiencing feelings in a way I hadn't since I was human, or even more so, if you took into account the way vampires experienced heightened emotions.

I took another sip of the punch, eyes never leaving Stiles even as I grimaced at the taste. It wasn't exactly appetising, but it gave me something to do, let me get away with not replying to people.

"Are you even listening to me?"

I huffed, turning to face the stoned boy, annoyed. "Leave me alone," I ordered him, meeting his eyes and doing my own little party trick. He immediately shut up, spinning on his heel and striding away, off to bother somebody else. With a relieved sigh I leaned back against the pillar, cocking my head as I thoughtlessly continued to listen in on Stiles and Scott's conversation.

"I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you hadn't noticed. People are dying, I got my dad fired, you're getting held back in school, after ten years of being infatuated with Lydia I think I might have fallen in love with a vampire, and if on top of all that I've gotta watch you lose Allison to a stalker like Matt, then I'm going to stab myself in the face."

The sound of breaking glass met my ears and the chatter around me instantly came to a halt. I noticed an irritating stinging sensation in my palm and I glanced down to see the glass of punch I'd been holding in shards, some cutting into my skin. I stared, unable to process anything that had just happened.

"Are you okay darling?" A Queen asked me, appearing at my side, taking my hand in hers and peering at the gashes. I numbly unclenched my hand, letting the shards fall to the concrete.

"I'm fine," I assured her tonelessly.

She started to protest, but I merely ignored her, spinning around and striding towards the house. I was surprised when I hit an invisible barrier, and hissed in anger when I realised what the problem was. I took a deep, steadying breath, walking over to the pool, uncaring that I was getting strange looks as I dipped it in the water, letting it cleanse my wounds.

Once the gashes were free of glass they started healing, but I doubted anyone would come close enough to notice. Besides, I had more important things on my mind to worry about something so small.

Stiles thought he was in_ love_ with me?

My first thought was one of pleasure. I was _happy_ that he loved me. But then the harsh reality kicked in, and I felt merely numb and void. It didn't matter in the end, nothing could ever happen. Sure, I'd had flings with humans in the past, most sexual and based on bloodlust and manipulation, but I knew it was possible. But Stiles didn't deserve that, he needed more out of life than a girl forever frozen in her teens, whose heart didn't even beat.

I was still crouched by the water, lost in my thoughts when a hand dropped onto my shoulder. I jumped, startled by the touch, pushing myself to my feet and gazing at Stiles cooly. "Jackson's here," he said, unaffected by my stare.

Instantly I switched gears. _Priorities, Juliet._

"What do we do?"

"There's nothing we _can_ do," he replied, glancing over his shoulder. "Just keep an eye out, see if the master makes an appearance, I guess." I nodded, eyes sweeping the crowd cautiously. "Anyway, I need to find Scott, just wanted to warn you."

"Okay," I said, moving past him, heading for the punch.

"Jules!" he called to me before I could escape, and I looked to him expectantly. "Are you okay?"

He seemed genuinely concerned, but I wasn't in the right headspace to care. "Yes Stiles," I replied robotically, forcing my lips into a hollow grin before turning around and making a beeline for the punch.

I ladled myself another cupful, drinking it down, grimacing at the strange bite it had. There was alcohol, obviously, but there was something else, something sickly sweet.

"_Juliet_."

I looked up, heart dropping into my stomach as I took in the familiar way my voice was whispered. That voice...

"_Juliet_."

It was coming from the corner of the yard. It was impossible, I knew that, but I couldn't stop myself from putting down the glass still half full of punch and cautiously making my way towards where the voice was coming from.

"_Juliet_."

Then he was there, standing in the shadows, suit perfectly unwrinkled, devious smirk in place. My eyes filled with tears and my hands balled into fists. It was all I could do to say his name through dry, parted lips. "Klaus."

"_Hello Juliet_," he greeted me calmly, handsome, if not more, as he ever was.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?" I asked furiously, unwilling to look away, not trusting him not to run. I had to check that Stiles was okay. I had to know he was safe. Against my better judgement, I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the crowd for my pale friend. I could see people in all directions, but they were fuzzy and out of focus. I couldn't hear anything but the murmurs of my maker.

"_Looking for Stiles_?"

My head snapped back to face him, teary glare firmly in place. "How do you-?"

"_Know about Stiles_?" he asked with that familiar smirk. "_I know everything about you Juliet. I always have, and I always will. You _know _that_." He tilted his head in a predatory way. It took a lot to spook me. Not even murderous alphas could do it. But this one Original? Every cell in me was terrified. "_Not to worry, your little human boyfriend is perfectly fine. I haven't hurt a hair on his head...yet._"

"If you touch him-"

"_You'll...what_?" he questioned, blue eyes narrowing. "_You'll kill me_? _You know I can't be killed_."

"I'll find a way."

"_Now now Juliet, it's been so long since we last spoke. Let's not spend our time together fighting._"

"Go fuck yourself." My hands were shaking, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't make them stop. Klaus' smirk only widened, like he was enjoying this. He probably was.

Dick.

I couldn't help myself. My arm moved without my consent. All I knew was that a second later I was swinging, only instead of meeting cheekbone I met thin air. I steadied myself, frowning at the space Klaus had only just been occupying. He was fast, but he wasn't _that_ fast.

"Jules!" I jumped, sinning around and throwing another punch. Scott caught my fist, frowning at me worriedly. All at once the loud sounds of the party hit me, and I blinked. I swallowed thickly, wincing apologetically. "Whatever you're seeing, it's not real," he told me surely.

Ah, that made more sense.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" I asked carefully, voice overflowing with barely contained anger.

"We'll figure that out, but first I need your help sobering up Stiles," he told me seriously.

"Where is he?"

"By the pool."

I was there in the next moment, crouched beside Stiles who was staring unseeingly into the distance. "Stiles?" I asked hesitantly, leaning into his line of sight. He didn't seem to notice I was there at all. I was still rattled from my Klaus-hallucination, but Stiles was more important than my pesky emotions. I brought my hands up, pressing my palms to his cheeks and tilting his head up. "Stiles?" I was beginning to get worried now.

"What do you think you're doing?" a new voice asked, and I glared at the girl for the interruption. "If you want to sober him up fast, that's not the way to do it."

"You can do better?" Scott asked, preventing me from snapping rudely, which was probably in everyone's best interest.

"I can do best," she responded confidently, ripping Stiles from my gentle hold and shoving him head first in the cold pool water. I wanted to shout at her, but Scott held my arm, silently telling me to allow it. It was difficult to listen, but I knew Scott was probably right. "How do you feel?" she asked once Stiles was back upright, spluttering and dripping wet.

"Like I might have to revisit my policy on hitting a girl."

"He's sober," she declared with a nod.

"Thank you," Scott told her, but I wasn't in the mood, taking Stiles by the arm and gently hauling him to his feet.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly, clutching his shoulders, staring up into his caramel eyes worriedly.

"I will be," he said reassuringly, and because we were on a clock, it would just have to do. I nodded, glancing at Scott as he slid to his feet.

"We need to find Lydia," he told us both seriously. "Juliet, you check around the front, Stiles and I will look inside."

"You got it," I responded with a nod, squeezing Stiles' shoulders once more, hoping it was in some way comforting. He shot me an unsteady smile, watching as I spun around and headed for the gate.

Lydia wasn't out the front of her house, and she wasn't in any of the surrounding cars either. I frowned, cocking my head to the side and sniffing the air. I couldn't tell which scent was hers, the whole place stunk of alcohol and perfume. I scowled, darting back around to the backyard, meeting up with Stiles and Scott by the edge of the pool.

"Find her?" I asked, though I could see on their faces that they hadn't.

"She's not anywhere," Stiles said, huffing with frustration. "Can you pick up her scent?"

"Not on top of everything else."

"Guys, anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out," he continued, surveying the surrounding group of crazed teens with narrowed eyes. If whatever it was had affected me, then it sure as hell would have affected the humans, particularly Stiles. I wondered what he hallucinated.

I watched detachedly as people began throwing their friends into the pool, frowning in displeasure as the splash wet my bare legs.

"What the hell do we do?"

Before Scott or I could answer him, there was a loud cry, "_I can't swim!_"

All of our heads snapped to the source of the scream, eyes sliding to Matt's struggling form, desperately trying to get out of the guy's arms. I watched impassively as they threw him into the water. Stiles was right, looked like Matt wasn't all that innocent after all. None of us moved, watching as the boy struggled to reach the top of the water, gasping for breath.

I contemplated getting him out, but if he really was the kanima's master then I owed him absolutely nothing. Luckily – well, lucky for him I suppose – Jackson crouched beside the water, reaching in nonchalantly and pulling the drowning boy from the depths, hoisting him up like he weighed nothing.

He looked like a drowned rat, water dropping from his soaked clothes. "What are you looking at?" he snapped irritably as everyone from the party stared shamelessly. He glared at anyone who met his eyes, stomping off in what happened to be our direction. We didn't budge, standing right where we were, preventing him from getting through.

I knew I couldn't expose myself, but my lip still curled back as I growled at him warningly under my breath. He swallowed and continued to glower, shoving passed Stiles and Scott rudely, rushing to the doorway.

Before any of us could comment on what we had just seen, a loud siren broke the air. "Cops are here!" an older guy yelled, and all at once everyone was scrambling to get out to escape the police. I sighed with aggravation, my initial instinct to protect Stiles. I grabbed his arm, ignoring the alarmed shout he gave, lifted him up. He shut his eyes for a moment as he felt the earth drop from under him, and when he opened his eyes again, he was sitting in his Jeep, curled up on the drivers seat.

"What?" he asked in confusion as I tugged his keys free from his pocket, handing them to him carefully. "But Scott-"

"Can take care of himself," I said deliberately. "Now drive."

And he did.


	24. Paralysed

_I can't control myself, don't know who I've been_

_And who is this monster wearing my skin?_

_A movie in black and white. When will it end?_

_'Cause every time I scream no one hears me_

Paralysed – Against The Current

* * *

"_Scott, do you know how many people I deal with in a day_?" Melissa McCall asked her son seriously, already sounding exhausted. The Sheriff frowned at the phone, not even bothering to kick my feet off of where they we resting on the edge of his desk, my chair leaning precariously on two legs.

I was glad that I'd convinced Stiles to take me home so I could change into more comfortable clothes than that damn dress. I felt more prepared for anything now that I was in my leather jeans, flat boots and an old football sweater.

"This one's sixteen. He's got dark hair, looks like a normal teenager," Scott listed desperately, clinging to the hope that she remembered him.

"He looks evil!" Stiles added, making the sheriff roll his eyes.

"_Scott, I already talked to the police about this_."

He muttered his reply before taking a picture and sending it to her with the magic of modern technology. "Did you get it?" he asked eagerly.

"_Yeah_," she responded.

"Do you recognise him? Do you remember him?"

"_Yeah, I did. I remember I stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall. Scott, what's going on?_"

He mumbled a promise to explain later, hanging up the phone and turning to Stiles' father expectantly. "We've got shoe prints alongside the tyre tracks at the trailer sight," he said, rifling through the files in front of him.

"If they match that puts Matt at the scene of three murders," Stiles interjected. "The trailer, the hospital and the rave."

I removed my legs from the desk without prompting, tugging the chair I was in closer so I could peer over the desk at their findings. "Actually, four," the Sheriff said. "A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed. A couple hours before you got there."

"Alright dad. If one's an incident, two's a coincidence and three's a pattern, what's four?"

"Four's enough for a warrant." We all ignored Stiles as he pumped his fist in the air in triumph. "Scott, call your mom back, see how quick she can get here, if I can get an official ID I can get a search warrant. Stiles, go to the front desk, tell them to let Scott's mom in when she gets here."

"On it," the kid said, jumping at the task and scurrying from the room.

"Juliet," he began once Stiles had disappeared out the door and Scott had spoken to his mother. "Maybe you should sit this one out. Go home, get some rest. We'll keep you in the loop if anything happens."

I hesitated, how did I politely say that I wasn't fucking going anywhere. "With all due respect-"

"We need her," Scott interrupted, staring at the the older man with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Trust me, we just do."

"What are you-"

My arm snapped out to grasp him by the elbow, shocking him enough to silence him. He looked at me in surprise, Scott cocking his head wearily. "What is it?" he asked me worriedly, seeing the alarm spread across my face.

The strong scent was floating through the door that Stiles had left open, making my gums ache and my eyes sting. I suddenly wished it hadn't been so long since I last fed.

"Blood," was all I said, but it was enough.

Stilinski looked confused, but mine and Scott's attention instantly snapped to where we heard footsteps heading for the room we were in. My throat closed up as I spotted Matt standing there, a gun pointed at Stiles' head as he herded him through the door. I didn't dare move, too worried he'd pull the trigger if he noticed.

Sure, I was fast, but I wasn't faster than a speeding bullet.

Thankfully Stiles went straight to my side, and I exhaled with relief as his hand wrapped around mine, fingers intertwining together. His hand was sweating, but I didn't care in the slightest.

"Matt?" the sheriff said cautiously, hands held out placatingly in front of him. "It's Matt, right? Matt, whatever's going on I guarantee there's a solution that doesn't involve a gun."

"You know it's funny you say that because I don't think you're aware of just how right you are," Matt replied condescendingly, gun steady in his hand. I heard the sound of Scott stealthily pressing buttons on his phone, clearly trying to alert someone about our situation.

"I know you don't want to hurt people."

"Actually I want to hurt a _lot_ of people," he corrected with a carefree smile, and for a split second he reminded me of myself only a year ago. "You four weren't on my list, but I can be persuaded, and one way is to try dialling somebody on your cellphone like McCall is doing." Stiles' grip on my hand tightened as he glanced over his shoulder at his best friend, who squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. "That could definitely get someone hurt. Everyone," he commanded, gesturing to the desk with the gun. "_Now_!"

"Come on," Stilinski urged gently, and we all dug our phones out, dropping them on the desk defeatedly.

Matt glanced away for a moment, and I knew I had an opening, I could attack him. I wouldn't be faster than the bullet, but as long as I was the one he shot then nobody would get hurt. But what if he aimed for Stiles, or Scott? Stiles seemed to sense what I was trying to do, and immediately tugged me back beside him, shaking his head softly.

I ignored him, my expression falling flat and my pupils dilating. "Matt," I said hypnotically, and he glanced at me. "Matt, put the gun down," I compelled him, and a second later he was stepping closer, the click of the safety being turned off echoing through the room. My eyes darted to the band around his wrist, and I instantly knew that Allison must have given him one out of the batch Stiles supplied.

"You think you can bat your pretty green eyes and I'm going to do whatever you say?" he asked, tone holding a dangerous bite.

A sour smile twitched on my lips. "It was worth a try," I told him gently, hoping he'd let it go.

He returned my off smirk. "First things first, let's put the sheriff in his cuffs," he commanded, gesturing again with his gun for us to lead the way through the station. I refused to let go of Stiles' hand, using it to force him in front of me, so I was the one closest to the end of Matt's gun. The gunman swiped a pair of cuffs off a desk on the way, shoving them into Stiles' free hand the moment we were in the lock up area.

The short haired goofball made to pull away, but against my chest clenched with pure fear. I didn't want him away from me for even a second, the closer I was, the quicker I could move him out of the way of a bullet.

"Jules," he said softly, looking down into my eyes. Brown met green and I knew cooperating was the best bet to keep us all safe.

Reluctantly, _very_ reluctantly, I let go of his hand, his smooth skin slipping against mine as he moved over to his dad.

"Tighter," Matt instructed when Stiles loosely secured the cuffs onto his dad's wrist.

"Do what he says," the sheriff said with a reassuring nod, and with a scowl Stiles complied, tightening the metal cuff so it was tight as a band around his wrist. The moment he was finished Matt forced him away from his father, pulling him back in front of him. I connected our hands again the second he was close enough. Even though I wasn't afraid (except maybe afraid _for_ Stiles and Scott), I found comfort in the skin to skin contact. It reminded me that he was right beside me, and, for now at least, safe.

The smell of blood flooded my nostrils as we turned a corner, and immediately I stopped breathing, using all my concentration to resist the urge to feed. Stiles noticed me tense up, and his thumb brushed soothing circles onto the back of my hand, even though he didn't know what was wrong. I wondered if he'd be so quick to comfort me if he knew I was struggling not to chew on someone's neck.

"What, are you going to kill everyone in here?!" Scott exclaimed as we past a hallway, dead, bloodied bodies littering the floor.

"No, that's what Jackson's for."

At the sight of the blood the veins under my eyes became apparent, and I angled my head downwards so nobody saw.

Ordinarily a vampire my age would easily be able to control the bloodlust, but having been on a diet, my body reacted violently to exposed blood, giving me little choice in how I reacted.

"I just think about killing them," Matt continued calmly, a smug little smirk on his pale lips. "And he does it."

"So what are you doing, Matt?" Scott asked as the gun pressed to my back, forcing us further down the hall, away from the allure of the spilled blood. "What's the point?"

"You're going to destroy the evidence against me," he said simple, shoving us into the office we'd just vacated and grabbing my arm, hauling me away from the others. "And if you don't, I'll shoot her in the head," he said with that repulsive smirk, sitting down in a chair and placing me in his lap.

Stiles was trembling, and Scott looked fearful. They probably weren't sure whether that was something I could recover from. I wished I had some way of telling them it was alright. I could have attacked him then, but if he had shot me, one of two things would happen: if he managed to hit the right spot in my brain, I would be rendered unconscious and therefore unable to protect my friends or, if he missed anything majorly important, then nothing would happen and my secret would be out. And on top of that there was a tiny chance, however small, that he could have wooden bullets, one shot aimed at my heart and it was game over.

I contemplated snapping his neck, I would have been able to do it before he pulled the trigger, but I couldn't stand the thought of Stiles seeing me take a human life. I'd left that life behind me, and the last thing I wanted to do was jump headfirst back into it.

No, Matt's death would only come at my hands if the boys' lives were under serious threat. We had to do as he said, stay on his good side, because we were a mere thought away from an encounter with the kanima. For now, I was fairly certain he wouldn't kill any of us. So I'd just wait it out, even though I loathed to do so.

"Alright, it's deleted and we're done," Stiles muttered angrily, pressing some buttons on the keyboard before glancing up at me with worry, having completed his task in the time I'd been mulling over my options. "So, Matt, since all the people you've brutally murdered deserved it because they killed you first – whatever that means – we're good here right? You'll just let Juliet go, we'll get my dad and we'll go and you can just continue on the whole vengeance thing. Enjoy the kanima."

He was silent, but before we could hear his answer headlights beamed in through the window, making all of us turn our heads to the interruption. "Sounds like your mom's here, McCall," Matt drawled.

"Matt, don't do this," Scott begged. "When she comes to the door, I'll just tell her to leave. I'll tell her we didn't find anything. Please Matt."

"If you don't move, now, I'm gonna kill Juliet first, then Stiles, and _then_ your mom," he responded, and though I wasn't looking I could hear the smirk in his voice. It was quiet for a beat, then the bell above the main entrance chimed, signalling the arrival of his mother. "Open it," he ordered harshly.

"Please," Scott begged brokenly.

"Open. The. Door."

Extremely reluctantly, Scott turned the handle, opening it to reveal Derek, staring dead ahead, a blank look in his eyes. I immediately knew something was wrong. "Oh thank God," an oblivious Scott breathed in relief.

Derek fell to the floor, revealing a half scaly Jackson standing behind him, eyes yellow and reptilian.

"This is the one controlling him?" Derek asked from his place paralysed on the ground. "_This _kid?"

"I know," I drawled, eyeing the guy holding the gun with distaste. "Anti-climatic, isn't it?"

"Well Derek, not everyone's lucky enough to be a big, bad werewolf," he sneered, ignoring my comment. "Oh _yeah, _that's right! I've learned a few things lately. Werewolves, vampires, hunters, kanimas. It's like a freaking halloween party every full moon. Except for _you_, Stiles. What do you turn into?"

"Abominable snowman," he retorted smartly. "But it's more of like a winter time thing, you know, seasonal."

"Hm," Matt hummed, faking interest. "Must be hard, being human and having an immortal, bloodthirsty, masochistic vampire girlfriend," he said, smirking broadly. "You know she's using you, right? You know they can't actually _feel_ love? Her heart doesn't even beat-"

"Shut the hell-" Stiles began to interrupt him, only for Jackson's hand to snap out, claws scratching the back of his neck, instantly paralysing him. He wobbled for a moment before falling uselessly to the floor, collapsing on top on Derek who glowered at the roof.

I reacted instantly, fangs slipping free as I snarled at Jackson in warning. He merely held up a hand, a silent warning not to do anything stupid.

"Get him _off_ of me," Derek grumbled sourly from the ground.

"Oh, I don't know Derek, I think you two make a pretty good pair," Matt commented, clearly enjoying the whole thing. Usually I was the antagonist. It wasn't so fun being on the other side of things. "It must kinda suck though, to have all that power taken away from you with a little cut to the back of the neck. I bet you're not used to feeling this helpless."

The alpha mumbled something about his teeth, flashing them for extra effect, but the unstable kid wasn't in the mood, he opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by another set of headlights shining through the windows.

"Is that her?" he asked with a sickening smirk. "Do what I tell you to and I won't hurt her. I won't even let Jackson near her."

"Don't trust him!" Stiles yelled from his position on top of Derek.

Matt snapped, reaching down and grabbing the back of Stiles' shirt, ripping him from Derek and throwing him down on the hard floor, pressing a foot to his neck. I snarled again, hand snapping out and striking the bastard across the face. His head snapped to the side, and suddenly Jackson was on top of me, one arm around my neck, the other pressed to the skin of my neck.

"I know the venom won't paralyse you, but I've heard it _will_ slow your healing process," he said, and on some silent command Jackson sliced through the skin covering the top of my spine. It stung, and I felt a drop of blood roll down my back. "Now back off, or a bullet goes in your brain. I'd like to see you spit it out without your healing abilities."

"Stop!" Scott hissed as he brandished the gun at my head. "Stop. I'll do what you want, just stop."

"Good," Matt said, seeming satisfied. "You," he said, barely glancing at the kanima. "Take them in there. _You_," he continued, gesturing to Scott. "With me."

Jackson bent down to pick up Stiles, but I wasn't having any of it. I grabbed his wrist, hissing at him warningly. " Don't you touch him," I growled, and he hesitated, glancing at his master for direction. Matt considered me for a beat, then nodded slightly, and Jackson backed off. I reached down, hooking my hands under Stiles' arms and gently dragging him into the office. As soon as we were over the threshold, I softy put him down, crouching beside him, pressing a gentle hand to his neck, examining the boot print left behind from a moment earlier.

"Will a bullet in the brain kill you?" he asked worriedly, staring up at me with concerned eyes.

"No," I assured him quietly. "But without my ability to heal, it'll definitely put me out of action for a while." I leaned closer, eyes Jackson wearily where he stood on the other side of the room. "Are you okay?" I whispered to Stiles, my hair falling over the side of his face, giving us the illusion of privacy.

"Apart from the paralysis, you mean?" he asked with a grimace before pasting on a brave expression. He noticed my serious face and winced, attempting to nod but not having much luck. "I'm alright. Or, I will be, once this Goddamn night is over."

"Yeah," I mumbled, "I know what you mean."

There was the deafening bang of a gun from a room over and Stiles' eyes widened in fear.

I cocked my head to the side, listening intently to what was happening on the other side of the wall. "Scott's been shot," I told him hesitantly. "He's okay," I reassured him when his heartbeat skyrocketed. "He'll heal."

He swallowed thickly, struggling to make his muscles cooperate. "And his mom?"

"She's fine," I confirmed, watching him exhale in relief.

There was a hissing noise from the corner, and I glanced up to see Jackson with his lip pulled back over his teeth, slitted eyes fixed on me. My own upper lip curled and I let out an animalistic snarl, flashing my razor sharp fangs.

We were quiet, I continued to glower warningly at the kanima, while Stiles concentrated on breathing and Derek glared at the roof irritatedly.

After a few minutes that seemed to take forever to pass, Scott stumbled into the room, Matt holding a gun to his chest. He was bleeding from the side, and I winced. It wouldn't kill him but it was probably painful.

"The evidence is gone," the wolf said desperately. "Why don't you just go?"

"You think the evidence matters that much, huh? No, I want the book!" the gunman replied tightly, barely sparing us a glance.

"What?" Scott asked confusedly. "What book?"

"The _bestiary_!" he snapped like the wolf was stupid, and the two paralysed men on the floor shot each other side glances. "Not just a few pages, I want the entire thing."

"I don't have it. It's Gerard's. What do you need it for anyway?"

"I need answers."

"Answers to _what_?"

There was a pause, then Matt turned to the side, lifting his shirt and exposing his side. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but what I found definitely wasn't it. Scales, just like those of the kanima, were climbing his abdomen, the human skin giving way to something decidedly more reptilian. "To _this_."

* * *

"How much time do you think he has?" I whispered to Derek, leaning over Stiles so I was closer and nobody would be able to overhear, bar the present members of the supernatural, of course.

"Not long," he mumbled back, green eyes a few shades lighter than mine flickering to me before returning to the ceiling. "Not at the rate he's going."

"You two know what's happening to him?" Stiles hissed quietly, and I sat back on my legs, letting Derek explain this one as I kept a careful eye on Jackson in his half-turned state. "So if Matt breaks the rules of the kanima, he _becomes_ the kanima," he said after a moment, eyes flying around the room, heart rate slower than usual thanks to the paralysis.

"Balance must be kept," I muttered to him softly, hand absentmindedly moving to his chest, calmed by the heavy beat of his heart under my hand.

"Will he believe us if we tell him that?"

"Not likely."

"He's going to kill all of us when he gets that book, isn't he?"

"Yup."

"Alright, so what do we _do_? Just sit here and wait to die?"

"Unless I can figure out a way to push the toxin out of my body fast enough. Like triggering the healing process," Derek replied under his breath. "It'll take time," he continued, glancing at me again. "You need to do something."

"And what, get shot for my trouble?" I hissed back. "You can't afford me out of action with a bullet in my brain."

"Well _someone _has to-"

"_You!_" Matt shouted, grasping under my arm and hauling me to my feet. With a grunt I let him manhandle me, aiding him by pushing myself to my feet. "What are you whispering about? Not planning to try and be a hero are you?"

"Of course not," I bit back with a saccharine smile.

He merely glared, stepping closer and pressing the gun to my temple. "Good, because even if you _did_ manage to get the gun from me before I pull the trigger, the kanima will still kill Stiles the _second_ I think it."

I grit my teeth, nodding placatingly, "noted."

His lips twitched up into a bitter smile, and he roughly threw me back onto Stiles. I let myself be pushed simply to appease him, collapsing beside Stiles, my hands braced on his stomach. With a motion of his gun, Matt was ushering a still bleeding Scott from the room. Stiles stared after his friend worriedly, but was quickly distracted by me.

"I could get you out of here," I told him seriously.

His eyes widened. "What?" he asked breathlessly.

"I could take you and run," I whispered, ignoring the sour look that Derek shot me. "I'm just as fast as the kanima, if not faster. I can get you to safety."

His eyes narrowed. "If you think I'm letting you do that, you've obviously inhaled too many vervain fumes or something," he retorted, looking entirely unimpressed with my suggestion.

I wanted to argue, but I was distracted by the story that Matt was relaying dramatically to Scott. Stiles hissed at me in question, wondering what had captured my attention. With a frown I told him what I could hear, watching as he struggled to wince.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked when I paused for a breath.

Before I could answer, the lights flicked off, plunging us into darkness. Stiles panicked, but my eyes cut through the shadows easily, flickering around to room for any hint of a threat.

There was a loud banging in the main room where Scott and Matt were, and Stiles winced as the deafening sound of guns being fired hit his eardrums. "What the hell-?"

"The Argents have arrived," I muttered with an annoyed scowl. "Stay down."

A stream of bullets suddenly shot through the glass to the right, and I flattened myself to the floor, avoiding getting one in the brain. My palm was braced on Stiles chest, though I was careful not to let him take any of my weight. Derek grunted from the beside him and I peered over, narrowing my eyes as I took in the sight of the werewolf's leg twitching.

Smoke began to float into the room as Derek met my eyes, nodding his head minutely.

Scott appeared out of the smoke, crouching down beside me over Stiles. "Take him," he instructed Derek, gesturing his head before bending down to collect Stiles.

"I've got him," I argued, wrapping an arm around his waist and heaving him to his feet with ease. He was deadweight, but that wasn't a problem; he was still light as a feather. He grunted as I dragged him through the door, Scott trailing close behind us, slamming doors in Jackson's face that he simply kicked down as though they were nothing.

I glanced at the door, again struck with the knowledge that I could take him and run, get Stiles to safety then come back to help the wolves.

"Don't you dare," he breathed sternly in my ear, apparently knowing my thoughts. Sometimes it was scary how well he knew me.

"Put him down," Scott instructed me as we slipped into a room. I scowled as I realised that the door we'd come in was the only exit, it made me feel trapped. Nonetheless I followed the beta's command, gently lowering Stiles into a chair leaned up against the wall. "Don't move." The paralysed teen shot his best friend an irritated glare. "You know what I mean." He patted him on the shoulder, spinning around and staring at the door. After a minute passed and Jackson still hadn't come smashing through the wood, he decided to venture out into the war zone. "Stay with Stiles."

I was torn. I knew that Stiles without a doubt needed the protection, but there was no way I could be expected to sit idly by, cowering in a corner over a helpless Stiles like some kind of bloody guard dog. I opened my mouth to retort, but Stiles coughed loudly, drawing my immediate attention. I stared down at him, his head hanging off the back of the chair, unable to hold it up himself.

I couldn't leave him if I tried.

"If anything happens, I can be there in seconds," I told him, and with a final nod he disappeared out the door, silently shutting it behind him.

"I'm fine, you know," Stiles spoke up after a minute, the only sounds filling the room the occasional gunfire from outside and the sounds of the humans struggling in the holding cell that only I could hear. I raised an eyebrow at him, glancing pointedly at his paralysed body. "Aside from the paralysis, I mean," he said, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. "You don't need to babysit me."

"Well you can't exactly stop me, can you?" I replied tightly, hands clenching into fists as I heard a shout of pain from down the corridor.

"Oh, nice, pick on the disabled guy," he retorted. "Real classy."

"Stop talking."

"Excuse me? I don't-"

My hand slapped over his lips, and his eyes widened at the touch, staring up at me like I'd just told him I'd found the cure for vampirism. His lips were pursed against my skin, and although my attention was needed elsewhere, it made it hard to concentrate.

Down the hall I could hear Scott talking in low, desperate tones with his tortured sounding girlfriend. "Allison," I murmured, ignoring Stiles' worried look. I removed my hand from Stiles' face only to lean down so I could whisper to him. "I have to go," I told him under my breath. "Can you feel this?" I asked, reaching down and pinching his thigh.

He winced, glaring up at me irritatedly, "Yes."

"Good," I nodded. "That means you're getting feeling back. As soon as you can, get out of here."

"I'm not leaving you!"

"I just mean get out of this room," I hissed back, ignoring the implications of his words. "There's only one exit, get somewhere with another escape route, and weapons if at all possible. Stay low and try not to make as much noise as usual."

There was a yell from outside the room, and I cast one more glanced down at the helpless kid in front of me, trying to smile (though it appeared more of a grimace, I'm sure) before slipping out into the fray, nose wrinkling in distaste as I inhaled a lungful of what appeared to be teargas.

My eyes stung but I was otherwise unaffected, darting through the smoke and heading in the direction I'd heard Allison and Scott arguing. I heard soft breaths coming from around the corner, and even though I couldn't smell her through the gas, I was sure it was Allison.

I stepped into her line of sight, blinking in surprise as I was met with the tip of an arrow that had been loaded into a crossbow. I raised my eyebrows, looking from the razor sharp metal tip to the screaming eyes of the raven haired human. When she didn't immediately lower it once she knew it was me, I became concerned. "Allison," I said gently, frowning when she flinched.

"Get out of my way," she warned me in a lethal tone.

"So you can do what?" I asked deliberately. "You're not after the kanima – you know that little thing's not gonna make even a dent in it's slimy skin – so who are you here for?"

"Get out of my way," she repeated.

"Or what?" I asked. "You'll shoot me?"

"Yes."

It wasn't wood, and even if it were it wouldn't bother me. An arrow launched from a crossbow wouldn't be fast enough to best me. Still, it stung a little to have something aimed at my chest by someone I considered a friend.

"Your parents and I have an agreement, you see," I said carefully, eyes meeting her teary chocolate pools. "I'm not to be touched. And I don't take well to threats."

She may have been a friend, one I cared about more than I'd ever admit, but that wasn't enough to change my outlook on being threatened by humans. "Well I guess that agreement's under revision since my mother's no longer alive," she spat, as though I was the cause of the woman's death.

I grimaced in sympathy, moving to step closer, only to have her lift the crossbow once more, a silent warning not to come any closer. "Okay, so you're hurting," I replied, hands held out placatingly. "I understand."

"You don't _understand_ anything," she seethed, pale pink lip curling back. "Get out of my way."

I wasn't about to let the emotionally unstable hunter anywhere near Stiles with a loaded crossbow. "No," I said simply.

I heard the trigger click, and in the next moment I had my fingers curled around the tail of the arrow, snatching it easily from the air and glaring stonily at Allison.

"That wasn't nice," I growled, furious that she'd dared to attack me. Before I could react, a loud shout echoed through the halls.

"_Jules!_" Stiles voice yelled desperately, and in an instant I'd disappeared from her side, slipping back into the smoke and making my way to where Stiles' shout had come from.

"Stiles?" I asked in a panic, appearing beside him, frowning as I realised he crawled into the holding room from where I'd left him. He didn't reply verbally, instead using a shaky hand to point to where Matt stood, gun brandished at us. "Stay down," I hissed to my favourite friend, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

Slowly and deliberately I slid to my feet, pulling back my lip and revealing glistening fangs, blood flooding to my eyes. I ignored the shocked and terrified gasp that came from Scott's mom, instead focusing on Matt, watching the crazy guy's every move. There was another growl from beside me, and I felt more than saw Derek slip into the room, also transformed, eyes glowing alpha red.

I felt slightly better knowing I had backup, even if it was my least favourite puppy. There was a familiar reptilian snarl from my right, and I reluctantly pulled my gaze from Matt. "God dammit," I grunted a split second before the kanima slammed into my side. Stiles yelled in worry, but I didn't have a second to spare, instead focusing on slamming my knee into Jackson's scaly abdomen and trying to get my hands around his neck for leverage.

Derek joined me a moment later, growling threateningly as he shoved the lizard off of me, landing a fist to it's angled cheek.

I took a split second to breathe before diving back into the fight. Derek had slammed it into a desk to the side, throwing punches and blocking scratches. It shoved the alpha off itself with embarrassing ease, leaping back to it's feet. With a grunt I jumped on it, thighs wrapping around it's head and using my momentum to throw it to the floor. It screeched in pain, but I barely had time to feel smug that I'd hurt it before it's claws scraped desperately at my face, tearing the flesh.

It stung like a bitch, and I flew off it's body, pressing a hand to my torn, bloody skin.

"Juliet," Stiles coughed, staring at me with wide, worried eyes. I held my face together with a hand, scowling when I remembered that I had the kanima's venom in my system, thus rendering my healing processes practically useless. I glanced at Stiles again, and he looked positively green at the sight of the gashes on my cheek.

My eyes blurred as blood trickled over my knuckles. I growled, struggling to push myself to my feet. I couldn't help but give a lethargic blink, and when I opened my eyes, a transformed Scott was standing in the middle of the room, staring at his crying mother who watched on in horror.

Great. Just what we needed.

**A/N: I have a question for you all: some physical things are going to start to happen between a certain pair of characters, and I wanted to know if you guys would be into having that sort of thing written out in detail (meaning I would have to change the rating to M) or just glossed over in a very PG13 kind of way? Let me know your opinions soon! **


	25. Blame It On The Rain

_You, got me caught in all this mess._

_I guess, we can blame it on the rain._

_My pain is knowing I can't have you,_

_I can't have you._

Blame It On The Rain – He Is We

* * *

Stiles wasn't coping.

I could see it in the way he stared into space, his heart always racing like he was in a state of constant terror. It was the third time in as many days that he'd come around to my house, preferring to spend the days in the aftermath of that night at the station with me (though God only knew why _my_ presence helped him). He even skipped school to do so, asking me to compel the missing days off his record once I'd healed enough to be seen in public.

I was drinking about five blood bags a day, trying to push my body to heal the gory gashes running from my temple to my chin. They were finally starting to close up, though every time Stiles looked at me I could see him struggling not to gag.

Most days passed without conversation, I could tell Stiles wasn't ready to talk about everything. He would perch on the ground next to my coffee table, scribbling away at the homework his teachers had been emailing him while I reclined on my couch, sipping blood and reading books, pausing only to change the record in the player.

It was exceptionally peaceful, if not a little disconcerting. I wasn't used to spending time with Stiles when we didn't talk, the kid always had something to say; a question to ask, a snarky comment to make. He had been even more quiet after it was revealed that Matt had died the same night everything had happened; he was drowned in a river. Ironic, really.

Now, on the fourth day after the 'incident', I sat beside Stiles at his lunch table, watching as he absentmindedly chewed on the disgusting looking mac and cheese that was being served that day. I numbly rubbed a hand over the newly healed skin of my left cheek, annoyed with the fact that I no longer had an excuse to stay away from school.

I glanced to the far corner, where Allison sat next to Lydia, frowning at the textbook in front of her, focusing on her work while the redhead stared into space in a similar manner to Stiles. Scott was nowhere to be found, in fact I hadn't even spoken to him since that night, only spotting him briefly in the hall earlier that day.

I still didn't know why Stiles chose to spend time with me instead of his best friend. I wondered if something had happened that I didn't know about, but Stiles insisted that they were just busy dealing with their own lives.

I looked at Stiles again, emerald eyes tracking over the constellations of moles on his handsome face. "I think you should see the guidance officer," I said bluntly, and he paused his chewing for a moment, turning his head to the side to look at me.

"No thank you," he responded, surprisingly politely.

"Well, you've barely said a word in days," I argued softly, unthinkingly curling my fingers around his bicep, hoping the contact would help get through to him. "If you won't talk to _me_, you need to at least talk to someone."

"_You're_ preaching to _me_ about emotional availability?" he asked sharply, putting down his plastic fork and turning slightly on the bench to frown directly at me. "I'm not even sure you _have_ emotions."

My jaw clicked as I ground my teeth together. I wasn't sure why his accusation hurt so much. He was right, on a level. I didn't have emotions, not in the beautifully human way he did. I suppose that's what it came down to; my lack of _humanity_. It hadn't really been brought up in the few short months that we'd been friends, it was like there was an invisible line that neither of us wanted to cross, neither of us wanting to acknowledge how very _inhuman_ I was.

I knew the dig was a tactic meant to push me away, keep himself at a safe distance. I was all too familiar with the move, considering I practically invented it, and I wasn't about to let him pull it on me. "I'm worried about you," I pressed on, refusing to let him win.

Something in his eyes softened as he looked at me, and I pursed my lips, leaning in closer and resting my chin on his shoulder. He didn't tense like most humans did upon contact with me, instead leaning closer as though he couldn't help it. I had to repress a smug smirk at the movement.

"Please go see the guidance officer?" I tried again, meeting his coffee eyes.

"It's not like I can talk about anything with her," he replied grouchily, narrowing his eyes at the spongey looking mac and cheese in front of him. "I can't talk about my real problems."

"It'll be better than nothing."

He sighed tiredly, running a hand down his face. Finally, after a long minute of intense deliberation, he nodded, and I pulled back from his shoulder, smiling gently. "Okay," he agreed. "Only if you see her too."

I hesitated, my victory suddenly dampened. "Uh, no," I said immediately, grimacing at the thought.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't _need_ to talk to anyone about my problems. Scratch that, I don't even _have_ any problems to talk about," I responded, picking up his lemonade and taking a sip.

"That's bullshit," he countered, shooting me a severely unimpressed look. "There's got to be _something _that's bothering you."

He wasn't wrong. It just wasn't what he thought.

Stiles thought he was in love with me. Or, at least, he'd said as much at Lydia's train wreck of a birthday party. Just the thought of it made me pull away from him, putting a foot in between us both, ignoring his confused frown when I did so. "I'm not doing it unless you do it first," he said, choosing not to comment on my move.

I wasn't happy, but I was willingly to compromise. Which is exactly how I found myself perched in a chair opposite the pretty guidance councillor, glaring at her standoffishly as Stiles sat in the waiting area outside of the room.

She and I had been sitting in silence for a good five minutes, if I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have been impressed by how unaffected she was by the glare that could melt diamonds.

I wasn't going to be the one to break the stare, refusing to even blink as I sat stonily before her. A throat cleared from out in the hall, and with a frustrated grunt I broke our staring match, glancing out the window at Stiles, who was staring through the glass at me pointedly, clearly noticing I had yet to talk. I thanked my lucky stars that he was human and therefore had pathetic hearing, meaning he wouldn't be able to catch anything uttered between us women.

"So, Juliet," Ms Morrell began, soft brown, doe-like eyes focused on my porcelain doll features. "Why are you here if you don't have anything to say?"

I grit my teeth, almost deciding not to answer just to spite the psychologist, however one glance at Stiles waiting patiently outside had me pausing, an irritating feeling of guilt clawing at my insides. "My friend needs someone to talk to," I said finally, fixing my cold stare back on the woman. "He'd only come to you if I did so first."

"Considering how much you appear to not want to be here, that must have been a difficult sacrifice to make," she said not unkindly. "You must care about him very much."

"I do," I answered quickly, then furrowed my brow at how ridiculous I sounded.

Ms Morrell seemed to take note of my conflicted expression. "Why don't you take pride in admitting that?" she asked in that light and airy tone, still staring. "It's not a bad thing."

"_I'm_ the bad thing."

I silently cursed myself for speaking, but as I grimaced, I came to a realisation. I didn't have anyone to talk to about this, about what was growing between Stiles and I. I couldn't talk to Scott, because anything I said was sure to make it back to his best friend eventually. Allison was out of the question. Her mother had just died, and even if she hadn't she seemed like the kind of girl who told her boyfriend everything. I had plenty of friends all around the globe, but very little I actually trusted or liked enough to talk to about such an awkward thing as a vampire having feelings for a human.

I could always talk to Stefan Salvatore, I supposed. I remembered his brother telling me that he was having a fling of his own with a human over in Mystic Falls. But I was much closer with the older sibling, and I knew Damon wouldn't like me going to his brother before him. I couldn't go straight to him either, because I knew he'd just laugh.

When it came down to it, the only person I _wanted_ to talk to about it was the very boy himself, but that was out of the question. It would only make him – and myself – uncomfortable.

So maybe talking with the guidance councillor, though I really did detest psychologists, was my best bet. She was impartial, and having someone to bounce off might give me some insight into what was happening. The trick would be explaining it all without mentioning the supernatural.

"You don't think you're good enough for him?" she asked, bringing my attention back into the small, cramped, sage-smelling room.

"I _know_ I'm not good enough for him," I replied tensely, glaring at her. Once again she wasn't intimidated.

"You don't think that's for him to decide?" her head tilted delicately to the side, and I winced at the hidden accusation.

"I'm dangerous," I countered seriously. I may not have liked her, but some deep seeded instinct was telling me that I could trust her – at least with this small truth.

Thankfully she didn't ask questions. "Does he know that?"

"He knows," I tried to explain, not quite sure it was going to cut it. "But he doesn't _believe _it."

She paused, dark eyes assessing me. "Maybe he sees something in you that you don't."

"It doesn't matter," I shrugged. She didn't say anything, merely staring at me as she waited for me to elaborate. "What if I hurt him?" I asked, eyebrows pulling together at the thought.

"Do you plan to?"

"No!" I answered instantly, eyes blazing with anger at the mere suggestion.

"Juliet," she began, leaning forwards in her seat. I inched back instinctually, glancing at all the exits on the off chance I would need one. "Everyone gets hurt at some point or another. You'll probably hurt him, and he'll no doubt do something to hurt you. No matter how hard you both try not to, it'll happen eventually. It's human nature."

I grit my teeth. _But I'm not human_, I shouted at her in my head, scowl deepening.

"I have...enemies," I said after a long, silent minute. I watched her closely. That wasn't something the average teenager said, but she didn't seem to be surprised by the admission. Her heartbeat was slow and steady. I decided not to elaborate, instead moving on to one of the many other issues I had. "He can't have a future with me," I told her quietly, looking away from her searching eyes and focusing on a crack in the smooth wood of her desk. "It's impossible."

"How so?" she asked.

I hesitated. How was I supposed to explain that one? "I can't give him what he needs," I huffed, angered by the thought. He deserved someone he could grow old with, someone who could give him children. I couldn't stay in this town forever, people would notice I never aged, and they would ask questions I couldn't answer. What would we do when he was fifty and I was still in the body of a nineteen year old? "Our lives are heading in very different directions," I said carefully, wording my explanation so I didn't give anything away. "I don't want to hold him back."

"You know, most high school relationships only last as long as high school," she said kindly. "That doesn't stop other kids from being with who they love while they can."

I was shaking my head before she'd even finished speaking. "I'm different."

"How so?"

I paused, wincing as I realised I'd backed myself into a corner. "If I'm in it, I'm in it for the long haul," she didn't need to know exactly how _long_ that would be. "I've had flings in the past," I told her, thinking fondly of Damon Salvatore and others I'd been with in my many years, purposefully not adding one very specific Original vampire to the list. "But, it'd be different with him," I admitted, glancing out the glass, seeing Stiles toying with the string of his lacrosse stick, focused on his task. He seemed to sense I was looking, and glanced up, meeting my eyes immediately. I couldn't find the strength to fake a smile, so I merely looked away again, focusing on Ms Morrell once more. "He's not someone I can just...have my wicked way with and be done," I swallowed thickly. "He's better than that."

"Sounds to me like you really love him," she said with a soft, open smile. I suddenly felt hot in the small room, confusing since I didn't typically react to temperature. I took a deep breath, glaring down at my chipped black nails. "You seem to be focusing on the future too much," she said insightfully. She wasn't wrong. I did definitely notice I worried about the future instead of focusing on the present. "I suggest that you just live in the here and now. Life is short," as she said this her lips twitched up in what I would almost call amusement, and I wondered what was funny about that statement to her, nobody else in the room would see the humour in it but me. "Spend the time you can with the people you love. If it's meant to be, it will be."

Deciding that I'd had enough of having my brain picked at, I slid to my feet, shouldering my satchel and nodding at her respectfully. She'd given me a lot to think on.

"Be gentle with him," I told her softly, glancing out at a distracted Stiles. "He's been through a lot the last few months. And if he rambles about something seemingly unrelated, just go with it, it's his way of dealing."

She smiled, inclining her head. "I'll be very careful with your Stiles," she said, and my traitorous stomach fluttered at her wording. "It was nice speaking with you Juliet. Please, feel free to come in any time, you are always welcome here."

Before she could say anything else annoyingly kind I slipped from the room, making my way towards where Stiles sat. "You can go in now," I told him gently, and he looked up, blinking a few times before picking up his things and moving to his feet.

I moved towards the seat he'd just vacated, but his hand on my arm made me pause. "Could you maybe..." he trailed off with a frown, not sure how to say what he was trying to.

"You don't want me overhearing," I finished for him, forcing myself to smile at his guilty expression. "It's fine, Stiles," I told him reassuringly. "I think I'm just going to skip the rest of the day."

"I'll meet you at your house later tonight?" he asked, something like hope in his gaze. I cocked my head, gazing at him curiously. Familiar red blotches appeared on his cheeks. "I mean, if you want me to... I could bring the stuff for hotdogs? Bet you haven't had one of those in a really long time."

"More like never," I admitted, and a spark of life flashed in his eyes before disappearing once more.

"Well that settles it," he replied in what was meant to be a mischievous tone, but it fell flat.

"Go have your talk," I prompted him, pushing his chest gently in the direction of the office, ignoring the way I felt Ms Morrell eyes on us. "I'll see you later."

He turned, however reluctantly, and made his way into the small room, the door swinging shut after him.

With a sigh I forced myself to move away from the glass, honouring my word and not listening in as I made my way towards my locker, where I dumped all my books, pulling out my spare pack of cigarettes and searching in it's depths for my old lighter.

Heels clicked on the ground beside me, and I took no notice until they suddenly came to a stop next to me. I didn't acknowledge the newcomer, instead continuing to rifle through my things. After a long, tense minute I found it underneath an old sweater, pulling it out and slipping it into my pocket.

"Yes?" I finally addressed the girl, sounding as irritated as I felt.

"What's going on with all of you?" Lydia Martin asked me. It was only about the third time we'd ever spoken to each other, and a small part of me was impressed that she had the guts to come up to me in a deserted hallway and confront me. "I haven't seen Scott all week, this is the first time you and Stiles have shown your face at school this week and Allison hasn't eaten in days."

"Gee, I don't know," I retorted sarcastically. "Might have something to do with her mother dying."

I didn't bother looking at her as I pulled out a cigarette, making my way down the hall and towards the doors. A sniffle from behind me stopped me in my tracks, and I slowly spun around to see Lydia glaring at the ground, stubbornly trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Oh," I said lamely, staring at her uncomfortably. I thought over what I'd said, it hadn't even been that mean. I'd been way worse to her in the past. "There there," I added awkwardly, reaching forwards and patting her arm softly. The second our skin connected she jumped like I'd shot her, flinching back, a small whimper leaving her lips.

She looked like she desperately wanted to scream.

"Bloody hell," I mumbled, toying with the cigarette in my hands idly and staring at her like she was insane. "Um, I guess I'll just leave you to it," I said. I felt like I should have apologised, but I had no idea what for, so I just kept my mouth shut, strolling from the hall and out into the sun, lighting up the cigarette and breathing in the chemicals, something I'd been aching to do since I'd stepped into the guidance councillor's office.

Before I could so much as get around the corner, I heard someone calling my name, and footsteps racing to meet me.

I turned around, raising a curious eyebrow at a tired looking Scott McCall.

"I need a favour."

* * *

I knocked on the door to the McCall house, listening to the sounds of Scott's mom as she walked swiftly in from the kitchen. She pulled open the door, a welcoming smile on her face only for it to drop instantly when she realised who it was.

Her heart rate skyrocketed and she gasped, moving to slam the door on me. My hand shot out, grasping the wood and pushing, preventing her from shutting it. She looked like she was going to hyperventilate, which was the last thing I needed.

"Melissa," I said calmly, watching as she desperately struggled to shut the door. "It's okay."

"No!" she snapped back, tears welling in her eyes. "You-you're one of those _things_!"

"I'm not a werewolf," I told her honestly, staring at her levelly through the gap.

"But your face-"

"The species you're looking for is _vampire_."

That apparently wasn't the right thing to say. She gasped again, trying with renewed vigour to shut the door.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I told her gently. "I'm just here to talk."

After a long few moments she paused, the fight seeming to drain out of her. She sighed, resting her head against the doorframe and shutting her eyes for a second before looking up at me sadly. "Do I have a choice?"

She seemed like the sort of person who valued the truth. "No."

She stepped back, allowing me to slip through the gap, letting the door click shut behind me. "I need a coffee to deal with this," she muttered, turning and making her way into the kitchen. I followed her, propping myself up on a seat at the counter as I watched her prepare her drink. "Why are you here?" she asked, not meeting my eyes as she filled up the kettle.

"Scott asked me to come."

She nodded for a moment. "Have you killed people?"

My lips twitched briefly. "You don't want to start with small talk? Work our way up to the big ones?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood. She wasn't having any of it, merely staring at me expectantly. I sighed, reluctant to answer, though I knew I had to. "Yes, I have."

Her hands shook as she pulled out the coffee while the water boiled.

"Has Scott-has he..." she struggled to find the words.

"Scott's never taken a life," I admitted sincerely. "To be honest, I don't think he could if he tried."

Her lips twitched but the expression died as quickly as it appeared.

I didn't know if it was overstepping my bounds, but Scott had thought I would be the best person to explain everything to her, to explain why she had to keep it a secret. I figured I'd appeal to her heart first and foremost. "He's still your son, you know?" I told her genuinely, listening as her heart stuttered. She didn't respond, though I caught her eyes welling up again before she turned around. I sighed again, trying to find the words. I decided that if she wanted to cut to the chase, well then I could do the same. "You can't tell anyone, Melissa."

"Not Ms McCall or ma'am?" she asked with a pained grimace.

"Considering how old I am, you should be the one calling _me _ma'am," I responded with a mischievous smirk. She looked up at me and through the tears I could see curiosity. "I'm a little over 200," I supplied with prompting, my smirk widening as her breath got caught in her throat.

She was silent for a long time as she poured the water into a mug. I noticed she was making a second one, and for a moment I admired her kindness. She was making an extra drink for someone who'd forced their way into her home. I took the mug from her with a thankful smile.

"So, Scott's a...werewolf," she began with difficulty, swallowing thickly. "You're a vampire and Stiles is...?"

"100% Human."

She seemed relieved by my answer, shoulders sagging slightly as she sipped her drink. "I know I can't tell anyone," she whispered after a beat, eyes on the dark liquid in her mug. "They'd capture you; do experiments on you."

"They'd have to catch us first," I replied lightly, sipping at my own drink, pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the taste. We were quiet for a long time, her lost in her thoughts and me monitoring her reaction, making sure she wasn't going to have a panic attack and pass out. Once again her eyes watered and she sniffed sadly. There was one other thing Scott had asked me to do, or rather, ask me to give her the choice have done. "I can make you forget."

She looked up at me in surprise, silently asking me to elaborate.

"Vampires have an ability, I suppose you'd call it a form of mind control," I explained, cold hands cupped around the warmth of the mug. As soon as the words left my mouth she panicked, looking up at me in alarm. "It's okay," I assured her quietly. "That bracelet you're wearing? It's filled with vervain – it's an herb – it prevent my abilities from working on you." My words seemed to calm her slightly as she softly fingered the interwoven metal. "But if you want me too, I can make you forget everything you saw the other night. You won't know about any of this and things will go back to the way they were before."

"Did Scott ask you to do that?" she sniffled.

"He asked me to give you the option."

She seemed to consider it seriously for a minute. "But Scott – he'll be alone," she whimpered, looking distraught at the idea.

"He has us," I replied honestly, and she looked up in surprise. "Me, Stiles, Allison. He won't be alone."

She was quiet again, swallowing three mouthfuls of coffee before she spoke. "Do you think I should do it?"

It was a surprising question. She wanted _my _opinion? I didn't pretend to understand the inner workings of the human mind, it was pure madness. "No," I told her sincerely, and she seemed surprised by the answer. "As long as you can be trusted to keep it a secret, there's no reason for you to lose the memories."

"But Scott-"

"If you choose to forget, what's that telling him?" I asked her carefully, sipping my drink as I watched her contemplate the question posed. "That you can't handle what or _who_ he really is? That you don't accept him?"

"That's not true."

"He's still exactly the same person," I told her gently. "Just faster, stronger, more agile and confident. See, the bite doesn't change you, it merely amplifies all the good things about. And Scott does have a _lot _of good things about him."

She smiled a little bit, so apparently I'd said something right.

"Have you had to do it before?" she asked meekly. "Taken away somebody's memories because they couldn't handle it?"

"Oh yeah," I nodded seriously. "All the time. There's no shame in it," I assured her. "Maybe you're just not ready." I hesitated, wondering if I should go on. "You love your son very much. One day you _will_ be ready. I'm sure of it."

Again tears welled in her eyes, but she was strong, refusing to let them fall. "I think I want to be ready now," she whispered honestly, and I couldn't help but smile.

Deciding not to push it, I decided to direct the conversation to a slightly different path. "So, I'm sure you have a lot of questions. Consider me your 'supernatural handbook'."

Melissa smiled, and I had a feeling I was doing an okay job for once.

* * *

Stiles had offered to drive me to the game, but I'd had something to pick up in town, so I told him I'd meet him there.

I hadn't, however, factored an abduction into the equation. So when a van pulled in front of me while I was walking passed an alley in town, I didn't think too much of it. Until three men dove out, all brandishing guns.

At first I thought they were probably just muggers. Then one shot me.

I expected to feel a sting but nothing more. So I was more than surprised when a deep, burning ache appeared in my stomach where the bullet had burrowed in. I glanced down without thinking about it, taking in the sight of the blood soaking my grey shirt. My knees buckled under me but I caught myself, the vervain lacing the wooden bullet forcing my fangs from their hiding place in my gums. I snarled at the hunters, taking a step forwards only to have another bullet hit me in the leg.

"What the hell?" I growled, trying to move towards them, only for my knees to buckle properly this time, sending me to the concrete. "We had a deal," I spat furiously.

Someone else jumped from the van, and my eyes trailed up the familiar form of one of the few people I would call a friend. "The deal's off," Allison said, knife in hand as she glared down at me like I disgusted her. "Grandfather's orders."

I couldn't help but hiss, even though I knew it dehumanised me, making me seem as much of an animal as I truly was. She didn't step back in fear as I'd hoped, merely nodding at one of the hunters who shot me once more, this time in the head.

I was in and out of consciousness after that as my body worked over time to deal with the wooden, vervain-laced bullet in my brain. Ordinarily I'd be able to spit it out, no problem. Unfortunately, hunters were among the few who knew a vampire's weakness.

I knew I was in the van, and I nearly smirked that they'd had the audacity to abduct me in broad daylight. I heard them muttering about wolves, something about Derek and his pack, but I was too focused to trying to heal myself to pay proper attention.

It could have been hours or minutes later when we came to a stop. My hands were bound with vervain-soaked rope, and with the wood in my system I had trouble staying conscious. I vaguely heard a familiar voice invite me into the home we'd pulled up to, and I hoped I survived the whole thing so I could come back and kill the inhabitants while they slept.

It wasn't my first rodeo. I'd been kidnapped loads of times, more often than not by hunters. Usually I was prepared. I'd gotten soft, so used to having friends and not having to be on my guard all the time that I got sloppy, allowing myself to be caught. I was tied to a chair in some kind of basement, and I glared at the stony faced hunter tying the knots.

His hand brushed against my chest deliberately as he pulled back, and I snarled at him. "Ooh, kitten has some fight in her after all," he said smugly, only to jump back in fright when I snapped my jaws at him. I was angry, angrier than I could remember being since I'd moved to this sad little town; since I'd met Stiles.

The thought of Stiles pushed me on, and I surged forwards again, this time quick enough to sink my fangs into his forearm. I was lucky enough to get only a small mouthful of mouthwatering blood before he pulled a piece of wood from his pocket and jammed it into my stomach.

I shouted out in pain, eyes watering as I felt the crudely carved stake splinter inside of me. I tipped my head back, feeling the burn spread up my chest, my head still screaming in pain from the bullet lodged in my brain tissue.

"How do you like that, you little bitch?" the ugly hunter asked with a laugh.

Gathering the blood that had pooled in my mouth, I spat it at him, grinning darkly when he flinched back. "Wrong species, dumbass," I sneered, and he glared, reaching down and pulling out the stake. I screamed as it ripped from my body, sagging in relief when it was gone. I glanced up in horror as he positioned it over my heart.

"Joseph," a creepy baritone voice snapped from the edge of the stairs, and he spun around, revealing Gerard standing there, a twisted smirk on his wrinkled face. Allison stood behind him, stake in hand – probably for protection – and indifferent glare on her face. "We're not killing her yet, remember?" he said with false patience. "Put it back where it came from," he instructed firmly, and with an indulgent grin he leaned down and slammed it into my gut, a few inches to the left from where it had been previously.

I gasped in pain, but refused to cry, merely seething at the hunters. Allison most of all. We were friends, and I didn't take well to being betrayed by my friends.

"Hello again miss Adams," Gerard greeted me almost pleasantly, dragging another chair closer and sitting down on it, his knees cracking loudly.

It had been a long time since anyone had called me by that name; by my real name. I'd gotten so used to the many aliases I'd created over the years that I'd almost forgotten it was my own. I wondered how he knew it, so very few did. But I ultimately decided it didn't matter, I was more focused on getting the hell out of there.

"I had a deal with _other_ Argent," I snarled, once again spitting out the blood that had pooled in my mouth, allowing me to speak more clearly, even though my fangs didn't seem to want to retreat. "I've kept up my end of the bargain," I told him darkly. "Not a single human bitten."

"I don't like being lied to, Juliet," he said, and I hated the way he made my name sound.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The Stilinski boy," he said, and though I'd lost a lot of blood, what remained seemed to drain from my face, my still heart dropping into my stomach. "I have you biting him on tape," he told me smugly.

"It wasn't willingly!" I argued, stretching forwards only for a searing pain to make itself known in my gut where the end of a stake poked out of my flesh. "He did it while I was unconscious! He thought he was saving me!" I growled, remembering that night – it felt so very long ago now – when I'd had a taste of Stiles' glorious blood. I'd wanted more, craved more like some common addict. Thus was the vampiric curse. No matter how much I loved the kid, I would always want one thing more than his presence. I would always lust more for something other than his body. As long as his heart continued beating, that wouldn't change.

The oldest hunter coughed, pulling out a little pill case and swallowing a small handful of them. "Nonetheless," Gerard continued like it hadn't happened. "You violated the terms of the agreement. We are under no obligation to keep our side of the deal."

"So you abducted me?" I asked, wincing as the wood continued to ache in my gut, blood dripping into my lap. "Why not just kill me now?"

He smiled in a way that was the opposite of comforting and shakily stood to his feet, stepping aside to let Allison pass. "We may need you yet, miss Adams," he said, nodding at his granddaughter, who bent down and jabbed yet another vervain-soaked, splinter riddled stake into my side.

I wanted to scream but I resisted, biting my tongue to stop myself, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "That one definitely punctured my liver," I growled, the agony once again spreading through as the vervain circulated.

Allison didn't smile like she enjoyed it, which I supposed was something. Instead she stared down at me apathetically, watching and waiting for her orders like a good little soldier. "Come on darling," he said, patting her on the shoulder and herding her out of the room. "You have some wolves to hunt."

**A/N: I've written a few more chapters ahead so I thought I'd just go ahead and post this one. It's one of my favourites, and includes a few little things people suggested in the comments. I hope you guys like it as much as I do. Thanks for reading. Leave a review and tell me your thoughts. Thinking of starting a Harry Potter story, what do you guys think?**


	26. Irresistible

_Too many war wounds and not enough wars_

_Too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores_

_Too many sharks, not enough blood in the waves_

_You know I give my love a four letter name_

Irresistible – Fall Out Boy

* * *

Erica and Boyd didn't say anything once they were brought in. I didn't say anything back except to ask if they were okay once the hunter had left. Erica had whimpered and her dark-skinned friend had merely lolled his head to the side, barely conscious. We passed the time in silence, no sound bar Erica's pained pants and my agonised hisses as I stubbornly struggled against the vervain ropes.

Nothing changed until a few hours later, when the door atop the stairs finally cracked open and someone was thrown down them like garbage. I didn't particularly care until the familiar scent smacked into me. I gasped as I stared through the darkness with blurry eyes at a confused and panicked looking Stiles.

He tried to see through the darkness, but was entirely unsuccessful. He stumbled a little, running his hands along the walls until he finally found the light switch. There was a click and a second later the room was filled with light.

"_Juliet_," Stiles gasped like he was in pain, completely ignoring the two tied wolves and rushing to my side. I didn't have the energy to fake a smile, I merely raised my head, staring at Stiles, unable to stop the fear from leaking through in my expression. He knelt in front of me, hands on my blood soaked legs as he stared up at me with watery eyes. "Oh God," he gagged, spying the various bullet wounds and protruding stakes. "They shot you in the head?" he asked in horror, hand reaching up to brush over the hole in my skull. "I'm so glad you're a vampire," he breathed, leaning forwards and pressing his forehead to mine, avoiding the bloody wound.

My chest fluttered. Those were definitely among the words I never expected to hear in my very long existence. I didn't dwell on it, however, opening my mouth to try and talk. My voice was hoarse and scratchy, and it made Stiles wince. I made the mistake of inhaling deeply, and instantly the blood flooded my eyes, inky black veins winding up my cheeks. Stiles didn't even flinch, simply staring at me, looking heartbreakingly lost.

"Get...away," I gasped every little movement I made causing searing agony to flow through me. My fangs slid out of their hiding place, and his eyes tracked the movement.

"What? No," he argued, shaking his head and squeezing my legs comfortingly. His breath fanned across my face and a consuming hunger reared its head in my gut.

He gulped, glancing down at one of the stakes in me. He nodded to himself, looking into my red and black eyes once more before reaching down with a grimace and wrapping his hand around the stake Allison had shoved into my side.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," that gratingly familiar voice spoke from the top of the stairs. Stiles froze, spinning around to face Gerard as he strolled down the steps towards us, shifting so he was in front of me, like he was protecting me.

No.

He needed to be protected _from_ me right now.

"What are you doing with them?" he asked the old man bravely while I stopped breathing altogether, knowing it would be easier if I didn't have to inhale the mouthwatering scent every few seconds.

"At the moment just keeping them comfortable. There's no point in torturing them, they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their alpha is too strong."

"You don't seem to have a problem torturing Juliet!" he countered angrily, taking a step back, now standing so close I could feel the delicious heat radiating off his body.

"_That_ isn't torture," Gerard responded coldly. "_That_ is the only thing stopping her from killing us all."

I wasn't sure he understood what that meant, but he accepted it and powered on nonetheless. "Okay, so what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, alright? He knows my scent. It's pungent, you know? It's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer, covered in faecal matter and urine..."

"You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Mr Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own," Gerard responded cooly.

"Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?" I stiffened in pure fear at the old man's words.

"Look, what are you? Ninety? I could probably kick your ass up and down this room!" Stiles retorted, only to get a face full of fist a moment later, sending him crashing to the ground. I couldn't help the whimper that passed my lips as I surged forwards. The vervain ropes tightened with my struggle, searing pain burning through layers of skin at my wrists and the stakes imbedded in my flesh splintering even further. "Okay, wait!" Stiles begged as Gerard knelt over him, rearing his fist back before slamming it in to Stiles' face.

"_Stop_!" I screeched desperately, knowing it would do no good. Every blow he received cut through me, hurting more than stakes or wooden bullets ever could. My eyes watered and I bit my tongue so hard that my mouth filled with blood. "_Stop_ it you bastard!" I screamed. "Stiles!"

The sheer force of the rage I was experiencing was enough to snap me out of my internal pity party, giving me what seemed like impossible extra strength as I ripped my arms apart, the rope holding them tearing like it was paper. At the sound of the bone in my arm breaking, Gerard swung around to stare at me in shock that only lasted a split second before anger took it's place.

He didn't have the time to defend himself, because in the next second I'd slammed him into the wall, my forearm braced over his throat, pressing down enough to choke him. His eyes bulged, and even though his face went purple, he had an indulgent smirk on his ugly face, as though everything was going exactly to plan.

I would have bitten him happily, but the thought of digesting the prick's blood made me feel physically ill. Besides, I loved to watch him suffer.

I was so consumed by my rage that I didn't hear the footsteps hit the stairs until a moment later I was being hit with a metal bat.

Ordinarily it wouldn't have mattered much, but I was already extremely weak, wooden stakes still jutting out from my torso. I was going to run, get the hell out of there, but I was too weak to carry Stiles with me, and like _hell_ was I leaving him there alone. So reluctantly I let them subdue me, securing me back into the chair I'd vacated as I stared at an unmoving Stiles in worry.

Stiles was still, staring up at the ceiling, completely dazed. "What the hell?!" I shouted furiously as the aged hunter pushed himself to his feet, rubbing a hand to his bruised throat. "You psychopathic bastard!"

"That's really the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it now?" he responded blankly. I merely glared back. He didn't bother to look at me. Stiles groaned, turning onto his side as he held his face in pain. He looked up at me, eyes teary as he stared at me, trying to communicate non-verbally, though I wasn't sure what he was trying to say. "Huh," Gerard hummed thoughtfully, eyes flickering between the human and myself. "You're free to go, Mr Stilinski," he finally said, and I blinked in surprise.

"What?" Stiles croaked, struggling to focus on the man standing over him.

"I said, you're free to go." Shakily, he propped himself up, frowning in confusion. Gerard continued when he made no further move to leave, "I suggest you leave before I change my mind."

"Not-not without Juliet," he coughed, blood trickling down his chin from the cut on his lip.

It was worse now that his blood was exposed to the air. The war raged inside of me, thirsting for his sweet blood. "No," I grunted, a single tear spilling over onto my cheek.

"What?" he asked again, wincing as the movement jostled his injuries.

"If I let her go now, she'll kill you," Gerard spoke up, and I glared at him with absolute loathing.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you really think whatever she feels for you is strong enough to overcome her bloodlust?" he asked condescendingly, sneering down at the kid. "Don't fool yourself. I'm throwing you a lifeline, take it and _get out_."

He was trembling, staring at me with sadness and terror and a hundred other emotions I couldn't name. "_Go_," I hissed, another tear escaping my eye. "Please, _go_."

With great reluctance Stiles scrambled to his feet, spinning around and disappearing up the stairs, only looking back at me twice. I sagged in relief once he was gone, the temptation of his blood going with him.

Gerard turned to me, examining his slightly bruised knuckles casually. "Now, I'm _sure_ I didn't see the beginnings of a mateship just now," he said in a way that, if I didn't know better, sounded sarcastic.

"He's human," I spat. I'd always been repulsed by the way they called it mating. In reality, it was more of a name given to vampire courtship, but hunters loved setting us apart from the rest of society, loved making us seem more animal than human.

"You wouldn't be the first to fall to the temptation of man," he sneered. I growled right back. Apparently I didn't seem like I was in enough pain, because he suddenly surged forwards, ripping out the stake from my stomach. I grunted, sweat breaking out on my brow as I struggled with the pain the wood chips left embedded in my flesh caused.

He grinned like my agony fuelled him, waiting only a moment before slamming it back into my thigh. It didn't hit anything vital this time, so I was able to keep my groan of pain to a minimum.

"Now that you're properly subdued," he said conversationally, crossing his arms and staring down at me. "I have some information I think you might like to be made aware of."

"How _considerate_ of you," I bit out through gritted teeth.

He smirked in that self-righteous way he did, leaning forwards as though I wouldn't be able to hear him. "He's close."

I frowned, not immediately understanding.

"We've been tracking his movements," he continued. "We don't know his exact location, but from what we can tell he's somewhere in Western Nevada."

"What are you _talking_ about?" I asked, staring up at him like he was insane. Which, to be fair, I was certain he was.

He only needed to say one thing, one thing to make my throat swell in panic, one thing to make my heart fall into my wounded stomach.

"Klaus."

The sound of the name made me want to flinch, but I held back, instead glaring furiously up at the Argent. Images of him slamming his fist into Stiles' face flashed behind my eyes, and I snarled at him warningly. "The second I'm out of this chair, I'm going to kill you," I promised him darkly. "I'm going to_ enjoy _watching you beg for your life as I take it from you."

He had the audacity to look unafraid.

* * *

I had no idea how long I was unconscious, but it seemed like mere seconds later that someone had slapped me across the face. My eyes snapped open and I instinctively hissed at whoever dared hit me. I was met with the tired hazel eyes of Erica, who pressed a finger to her lips, telling me to stay quiet. I realised after a moment that my wrists were free of binding, however the stakes and bullets were still in place.

"You have to pull them out," I whispered, and she hesitated. Boyd stepped up beside her, not even pausing before grasping the woof protruding from my leg and ripping to from my flesh. I bit my tongue once again to hold back a scream, especially when he repeated the action with the one in my gut. He shot me an expectant look, and I spat a reluctant thank you before pushing myself to my feet.

The bullets were still in my gut, but I'd need time and a safe space in which to pull them out. At least the one in my head had eventually been pushed back out of it's entry wound, ending up somewhere on the cold cement floor.

Sneaking up from the basement was surprisingly easy. I held my stomach in pain as I silently waved the two wolves through to the back door, the only signs of life being a group of people upstairs and a single beating heart in the lounge room. Their footsteps were quiet as they made their way to the door, pulling it open and darting out into the cool night air before anyone could stop them.

I hesitated.

Anger, bitter and harsh, swirled around in my gut in a way that was painfully familiar. I couldn't help myself, I had to turn back around and pad silently into the lounge, where a man was reclined on the couch, staring at the television as he sipped a beer.

I bit back a growl as I thought about how this man, the _hunter_, had dragged poison across my skin, watching with glee as it bubbled and burned. My fingers were aching to repay the favour.

I took a step closer, thinking about how although I wanted to drag it out, I had to be quick to get back to Stiles. As soon as my human's face crossed my mind, I froze.

It wasn't easy. Hell, it was torture not to get the chance to torture. I was angry for a moment, even at Stiles. What was a _tame_ vampire good for? Still, I remembered the way he looked at me when I told him all about Myra and the oath I took to be a better person. Killing this meathead now, although it would feel _very_ good at the time, would ultimately make Stiles disappointed in me.

However, I never said anything about not _hurting_ any humans.

"Wha-" the hunter spun around as I purposefully put my weight on a creaky floorboard. I grinned devilishly as he realised who I was. I wiggled my fingers at him with a grin and before he could blink my fist was smashing into his nose. He exclaimed loudly in pain, but thankfully the people upstairs were playing music and didn't hear. I smirked, stepping closer and jerking my knee up into his crotch.

He folded over, holding himself in pain. I leaned closer, curling my fingers around his ear and ripping harshly. "If you _ever_ touch me again, I'll rip off your scrotum, puree it in a blender and feed it to you in a bottle," I told him, no hint of a lie. "And tell your pathetic little friends 'congratulations' for me, on managing to best me this once. But let me assure you," I pulled back to stare him directly in his murky, dull eyes. "It will _not_ happen again."

I patted his cheek once more, severely enjoying the look of fear in his eyes before I slammed my fist into his temple, this time with enough force to knock him out cold.

I followed the path the wolves had taken, startled to see them waiting for me just within the tree line. They were able to move faster than me since I was still full of wooden bullets, and in an act of surprising kindness Boyd wrapped an arm around me, helping me to stay upright and move more swiftly.

It was quiet, and we didn't for a moment stop to breathe, pushing ourselves to go faster, get further and further away, desperate to get to safety.

I thanked the two softly when we came to a familiar part of the woods and no other words were said as I limped away, beginning the journey to my house. It backed onto the woods, but instead of staying in the crushing silence of the building, I simply downed three blood bags before leaving the house once again, heading for Stiles' house.

Ordinarily it would take a minute, maybe less. Now, it took ten. I winced in pain as I held onto the trees for support. Finally I slipped into the end of the street the Stilinski's lived on. Thankfully it was dark, and I was able to make my way towards their house with little drama bar a particularly loud dog behind a wire fence. I had to hide behind a tree in Stiles' yard, watching with a frown as Lydia pulled out of their driveway, driving down the road with teary eyes.

I couldn't find it in me to care about why she was there, it did make a sour feeling curdle in my gut, but I ignored it, choosing instead to move to the front door. Cocking my head to the side, I heard the Sheriff in the lounge. There was no way I could sneak passed him.

With a frustrated grunt I gripped onto the grooves on the wall, pulling myself up, each movement more painful than the last. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached Stiles' window. I pulled it up and open, and Stiles spun around at the noise, heart stuttering in his chest.

"Jules!" he breathed in pure relief, rushing forwards to help me out of the window and onto his bed.

"I can't get the bullets out," I told him, taking care not to breathe in his mouthwatering scent. "They're laced in vervain. You need to do it."

He gulped. "Reach into your flesh and fish out the bullets?"

"Yes," I groaned, collapsing back onto his mattress, eyes nearly rolling back into my head at how comfortable it was compared to that bloody basement. I cracked open my eyes to observe the hesitant and sickly looking expression on his face. I reached forwards with a wince, wrapping my fingers around his. "Stiles," I muttered. "You can do this."

"I can do this," he repeated for his own benefit.

He took a deep breath before moving his hand into the hole in my leg, starting with that one first. He grimaced in what was most likely disgust as he dug around in my flesh, fishing out the bullet.

"Wooden bullets, huh?" he asked lightly, peering at it closely before setting it on his bedside table as he made a grossed out face. "Creative."

"Hunters have been using them for centuries," I told him weakly, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to focus on the pain. "They're a real pain in the ass."

"I need to, um," he muttered awkwardly, hands hovering over my stomach.

"Just do it already," I told him sternly, and his heart stuttered before he braced one hand on my abdomen, the other finding it's way into the wound to dig it out. "It was lucky that the vervain was strong enough to keep me from healing, otherwise you would have had to cut into me with a pocket knife to get it out."

I spoke mostly to keep myself distracted, but Stiles apparently didn't appreciate my chosen topic of conversation. He turned an unattractive shade of green, adding to the colour already in his face.

"Cheer up. Ordinarily I'd be thrilled to have your fingers inside of me, but this isn't quite what I imagined."

He choked.

I watched him carefully, as he turned from green to an impressive shade of fire engine red. He stuttered for a moment, unsure how to continue from there. Part of me – the part that wasn't in agony – enjoyed seeing him flustered. His fingers jabbed into my gut and I flinched, biting back a groan of pain. "Careful," I hissed, nails digging into the palms of my hands as they curled into fists.

Stiles didn't speak after that, clearly preferring to work in silence as he managed his nausea and recovered from my comment. Finally the last bullet came out, and we both breathed a sigh of relief.

The only bad thing about being bullet-free, was that my mind moved from pain to hunger in less than a second. My fangs made themselves known, and I slapped a hand over my lips, hiding them from view. Unfortunately there was no hiding the black veins crawling up my cheekbones.

I stopped breathing instantly, lessoning the dull ache in my throat by a small degree. "Oh," he mumbled in realisation, taking an instinctual step back that hurt me more than it should have.

"Sorry," I apologised from behind my hand. "I should go. Thanks, Stiles."

I was nearly at the window when he spoke again, "Wait." I froze, turning back around to stare at him expectantly. "You don't have to leave," he told me hesitantly.

"Yeah, I really do," I replied, shaking my head at the kid.

"No," he shook his head. "I mean you don't_ have_ to leave."

I stared at him, contemplating his words. He moved over to his chest of drawers suddenly, rifling through them until he pulled out a handful of clothes. He stepped closer to me, holding out the bundle in his hands. My brows pulled together and I cocked my head curiously.

"You should get out of those bloody clothes," he told me gently, and though I still felt uncertain, I took the folded clothes, my hands running over the soft material of the sweats. We were silent for a moment, both observing the other, wondering where to go from there.

"Can I use your bathroom?" I asked, deciding that even though it probably wasn't the smartest decision, it was definitely the one I wanted.

"Of course," he nodded, striding over to the open door and pointing to another door down at hall. I inclined my head in thanks, slipping passed him and moving silently through the house.

I heard Stiles talking with his father a moment later, but I purposefully ignored their words, feeling too guilty to listen in. I peeled off my ruined clothes, hissing quietly in pain as I felt my slowly healing wounds tug. I found a dark coloured wash cloth, wetting it with warm water and running it over my skin, getting rid of the dried blood that was left behind. I breathed deeply, focusing on my task, focusing on not overhearing the men in the other room.

Stiles had given me an old pair of black sweat pants that were several sizes too large. I pulled the drawstrings tight, securing them on my hips. He'd also included a blue hoodie, one that was thick and soft and made me want to snuggle into it. I suppressed the embarrassing urge, merely pulling it over my blood stained bra. I bundled my ruined clothes in my hands, taking a deep and steadying breath before slipping from the small bathroom and heading back to Stiles.

The Sheriff was just leaving his son's room as I entered, and he started at the sight of me, staring down at me in surprise. "Hello Sir," I greeted him gently, bowing my head respectfully.

"Juliet?" he asked in surprise, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. "I didn't know you were here..."

"She just got here," Stiles supplied tiredly, and I shot him a concerned look. He seemed exhausted, but he still tried to shoot me a reassuring smile when our eyes met. He didn't pull it off, but I let him get away with it.

"Are you okay?" the sheriff asked worriedly, eyeing the clothes that were obviously his son's.

Scrambling for a lie, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "When I heard Stiles was home, I had to come see for myself." It didn't explain the clothes I was wearing, but I figured I'd let him think what he would about that.

He sighed, but a smile still appeared on his face. "You're a good...friend," he said as he glanced back at Stiles. His son groaned, running a hand down his face and the older man's lips twitched as though he knew something Stiles didn't. "Well, I'll leave you two to it," he said after a long pause. With a nod of his head he left the room, heading down the hallway and out of earshot.

It was quiet for a stretch as I contemplated how to fill the silence. I moved over to the small trash can by his desk, dropping down to deposit my ruined clothes in it's depths. "I saw Lydia leave," I finally spoke up, coyly toeing the hardwood floor.

"Oh," he exhaled, his heart rate suddenly spiking.

"Did you get a chance to confess your undying love?" I asked, wanting to look up at him but finding I couldn't make myself meet his eyes.

He laughed, but the sound was unconfident and nervous. "No, no," he muttered, scratching at the back of his head. "That's – uh – not so much a thing...anymore."

"What isn't?"

"My 'undying love' for Lydia," he parroted, and I spotted a small smirk on his lips, my eyes wandering over the soft rose colour before sliding up to meet his eyes. I couldn't help but feel pleased and smug as his heart stuttered in his chest as emerald green met golden honey.

"You've loved her since you knew what the word meant," I argued, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the kid. "What happened? You woke up one day and realised you just _weren't that into her_?" I couldn't help the scathing and bitter way I spoke, but Stiles didn't seem to take offence, in fact his small smile only seemed to grow in size.

"What can I say?" he shrugged, lowering his head bashfully. "I guess it just took me a while to figure out what I really want."

"And that isn't Lydia Martin?"

"I think she and I will be great friends," he said honestly.

"Nothing..._more_?"

"Nothing more."

I hesitated, searching his eyes for any hint of deception. I was satisfied when I found none, but schooled my features so it didn't show on my face.

"Besides, who was I kidding? She's way out of my league anyway," he continued with a forced carefree grin, trying to lighten the suddenly serious mood.

"That's not true," I countered, lips pulling down at his self-deprecating tone.

"You're only saying that because you have some kind of weird vampire grudge against her," he replied, succeeding in only deepening my frown.

When I really _honestly_ thought about it, I had no choice but to admit my reasons for disliking the girl were petty, even for me. Sure, she was shallow and vapid, but anyone with half a brain could see what a cover that was, a persona to make herself more likeable, as though nobody in this sorry town valued the intelligence she so clearly held in that sharp angled head of hers. No, what really soured her to me, was (loath as I was to admit it) Stiles' affection for her. I wasn't generally a very jealous person, but it was unfortunately an unavoidable aspect of vampirism that I'd inherited when I died. Now that I knew something in Stiles wasn't as attached to her, I found little justification in hating her.

I could tell that Stiles still cared about her, and in a way he probably always would. She was his first love. Lord knows I'd always be tied to Klaus in one way or another.

I thought back to a day ago, when she'd looked so broken and lost at the school. "Maybe she's not so bad," I shrugged suddenly, remembering the way her eyes had welled with tears.

Stiles looked like I'd just told him pigs could fly. "What?"

"I'm not saying I want to throw a ball in her honour," I snapped, covering my moment of softness. "But maybe I could cut her some slack next time I see her."

As I spoke, his hand dipped into his pocket and he pulled out his phone when it buzzed, peeking at the screen with a furrowed brow. "It's funny you say that," he said carefully. "That might be sooner than you think."

"Excuse me?"

He held up his phone, allowing me to view the text on the screen. "It's started."

* * *

"Did I get him?!"

I held tight to the seat near Stiles' neck, bracing myself as I listened to the two other inhabitants of the car breathed heavily. I sat up straighter, peering over through the windshield at the kanima sprawled on the hard cement floor. I nodded happily, though the pleased feelings instantly evaporated as the lizard jumped to it's feet, pouncing onto the hood of the the Jeep, snarling at us through the glass.

"Out," I commanded Stiles, and I supposed by extension, Lydia. They dove from the car and I was quick on their heels, following Stiles to Scott's side. I paused once Stiles was safe, glancing back at where Lydia stood in front of a transformed Jackson, holding a key up with a terrified look on her pretty face.

I knew I couldn't intervene. We'd brought her for a reason, and I couldn't stop her now. It had to be done. I just hoped he wouldn't kill her; despite what Stiles said about no longer loving her, I knew it'd destroy him to lose her.

Unfortunately, before the little girl could finish working the magic of love, Derek and another wolf ran forwards, skewering the kanima through the gut with their claws. I was relieved at the turn of events, until I realised who the other werewolf was.

"Scott?" I hissed under my breath, eyes never leaving the slimy old bastard. "Why the hell is a werewolf I know for a fact to be dead currently breathing?"

"Not now," he breathed back, never taking his eyes from the scene in front of us.

Fair enough, I knew it wasn't a great time to be asking questions, but considering Peter Hale was alive and well, happily murdering people as usual, I'd figured I would have gotten at least a moment's worth of answers. My eyes stayed locked on Peter even as they walked away from Jackson, leaving Lydia to run up to him and whisper declarations of love in his dying ear.

"Where's Gerard?" Allison asked tensely, eyes watering as she searched for the man who had used and manipulated her.

"He can't be far."

Everyone's attention was suddenly on Lydia, who turned around, wiping her tears and sniffling sadly. Stiles stepped forwards as though it was on instinct, and I ignored the pang I felt in my gut at the sight. Before he could get to her, however, there was a loud scraping noise, a soft gurgling sound coming from the dead boy's body.

My eyes finally left Peter as I heard Jackson's heart start up again. I looked on with mild curiosity as he sat up.

Looks like more than one person had come back from the dead that night.

He stood slowly and dramatically to his feet, tipping his head back and letting out a feral roar, eyes glowing a familiar regretful blue. My eyebrows raised as I watched, taking a second to unashamedly take a peak at his junk, briefly wondering what all the fuss was about.

Lydia dove into him, clutching at him like he was air and she was drowning.

I looked to Stiles curiously, watching in confusion and suspicion as his eyes watered. "You okay man?" Scott asked delicately.

"Yeah," he muttered, sounding choked up. "I just scratched my cheek."

It was a weak excuse at best, and my eyes narrowed in displeasure at the way his heart stuttered, not liking that for once I wasn't the cause of it.

I turned to Derek, his uncle standing a few feet behind him, already a bored expression pasted across his features. He caught my eyes, taking in my glare and breathing deeply.

It was time to get some fucking answers.

* * *

_Myra laid in a bed at the hospice care ward in New York, her wrinkled hand wrapped around mine as she stared up at me with dull green eyes._

"_You'll try and be better, won't you dear?" she'd said in that croaky old voice of hers, her eyes teary._

"_Better than what, Myra?" I'd asked, squeezing her fingers lightly, frowning at the sound of her weak heart struggling to continue working._

"_Better than you are now." I didn't quite understand, so I merely nodded placatingly, smiling and scooting a little bit closer. She always did know me so well, well enough to know when I was bullshitting her. "You've lived without humanity for so long, Aunt Juliet," she'd told me sadly, staring up at me with compassion. "It's time to stop hiding from your human side."_

"_This may come as a shock," I began sarcastically, refusing to acknowledge her words on a deeper level. "But I'm _not_ human. Every bit of humanity left in me shrivelled up and died a very long time ago, sweetheart."_

_My last living descendant weakly slapped me on the wrist, rolling her eyes then wincing when it hurt her head. "You and I both know that it's still there somewhere. It's time to step out of the shadows."_

"_Interesting analogy considering the sunlight sets me on fire."_

_She smiled, eyes drooping shut as she shakily struggled to breathe in. "Then, if you won't do it for yourself, will you do it as this old bird's dying wish?"_

_I'd scowled, but the expression held no severity. "That's just cold."_

_She'd laughed, the sound more of a cough than anything. "It's time for you to experience life beyond blood and lust and everything in between."_

"_What would you know?" I'd muttered, my thumb brushing against her cooling skin. "You're just an old crazy lady, locked indoors for one too many years."_

_She wasn't in the mood to take any of my shit, eyes cracking open again to fix me with a hard stare. For a split second I saw the resemblance between her and her great-great-great-great grandmother; my late sister. It made my stone cold heart ache for a moment. "Promise me."_

"_Promise you what?"_

"_Promise me you'll flick the famous humanity switch, and you'll give life a shot. There's more to life than cheap thrills. It's still in there you know, deep down inside you still have the ability to love."_

_I'd snorted, rolling my eyes and bringing her hand up to my lips, placing a loving kiss on her skin. "Whatever you say darling," I'd smirked as I'd rolled my eyes. "Whatever you say."_

* * *

"So...Lydia and Jackson, huh?"

As always with my sudden appearances, Stiles jumped violently, swinging around to stare at me, a frustrated look on his face. "We _really_ need to get you a bell," he muttered for the hundredth time, scowling at me for a moment before the expression broke, giving way to a smile.

"How do you feel?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, turning back to turn down the music that was playing from his computer; some kind of piano based song with a pretty melody.

"Now that Lydia and Jackson are king and queen again, and all is right in the world?" I elaborated, crossing one leg over the other, my palms pressed against the windowsill I was seated on.

He rolled his eyes, swinging back and forth on his swivel chair. "We've been through this Jules, I don't feel that way for Lydia anymore," he replied slowly, like he was speaking to a child which only aggravated me further.

"Twelve years of feelings don't just disappear overnight, Stiles," I argued, brows pulling together as I watched his reaction closely. "And I saw how you were earlier tonight; you looked heartbroken."

He exhaled sharply, glaring at me with as much strength as his little body could muster. "Why do you even care?"

And how the hell was I supposed to respond to _that_?

I blinked at him silently, struggling to find an answer that wasn't creepy and/or completely inappropriate. My lips pressed together angrily when nothing came to mind.

"Well?" he prompted, pushing himself from his chair and taking a step closer. I glared at him warningly and he didn't come any further, knowing the warning when he saw it.

"I just think you could do better," I finally muttered bitterly, my words having a double meaning that I wasn't sure he'd understand.

"Yeah, because girls are just lining up to have a shot with me," he replied sardonically, voice raised ever so slightly. I tilted my head, listening for the sounds of his father somewhere in the house. When all I heard was silence, I realised I hadn't seen his cruiser out the front either, so I assumed he was at work.

"Well maybe they are and you just can't see it because you're blinded by how much you want Lydia!" I retorted, feeling less anger and more annoyance flare in my gut at his stubbornness.

"I don't want _Lydia_, I want _you_!"

Silence.

Of course his words were met with silence, because what the _fuck_ was I supposed to say to that? To his credit, he did look properly horrified in the moments following his words. His coffee eyes widened like saucers and his pale pink lips parted as he stared at me in pure panic. I realised I was letting the surprise spread across my own face and I quickly rectified that, schooling my features to a more blank expression.

Stiles' heart pounded in his chest and his hands shook. He swallowed loudly, jaw clicking in a way I couldn't help but find attractive.

I wanted to pull away, I wanted to tell him what a terrible idea that was, because I was the living dead and he was so _very, painfully _human. Before I could force the words from my frozen lips, a thought came to my mind. Less of a thought and really more of a memory, one of my descendant laying in a bed, telling me to open myself up to my humanity; to open myself up to love.

But with a _human boy_?

I met his eyes and realised, that _yes_ with a human boy. _This _human boy.

From the moment we met out in the woods, from the moment I breathed in his intoxicating scent, it could never have been anyone but him. We were brought together time after time, and though I wasn't sure I believed in fate, I couldn't ignore the evidence.

Besides, who else would I find that would look beyond the fangs to see the girl inside?

He stumbled back and crashed into his desk as I threw myself at him faster than he could see. He gasped at the contact, but the sound was muffled as I pressed my lips to his, my eyes shutting tightly as I wrapped my arms around his neck, gripping at the collar of his shirt and pulling him impossibly tighter to me.

Our lips moulded together, his were soft and mine were firm, and his arms wrapped themselves around my waist as an afterthought, palms pressing against my spine. I kissed him chastely but thoroughly, loving the way he moaned into my mouth. I smiled into the kiss, kissing him harder, my own hands moving to his neck where I dragged my fingers along his exposed skin, revelling in the way goosebumps broke out along his flesh and a shiver ran down his spine.

Finally, when I realised that he was human and therefore needed air to survive, I pulled back only an inch. He gasped for air, but not for a second unwrapping himself from me. I folded my lips together to contain my grin, but it was pointless as he pressed his forehead against mine, his heavy, minty breaths fanning across my face.

"You still remember that I'm a _vampire_, right?" I asked, opening my eyes to peak at him. His lids were still firmly shut, but a small smile appeared on those glorious lips. "As in: one of the undead?"

"Uh-huh," he hummed blissfully, reaching forwards to peck at my lips once.

"And you're aware that no matter how I feel about you, I'll always be secretly lusting after your blood?"

"I know," he mumbled, the smile on his lips only growing as he continued refusing to open his eyes, still basking in the moment.

I pulled back not a second later, not able to stop myself from talking. "And-and you know I'm new to the whole 'emotions' deal, yeah?" I muttered, squeezing his neck gently, my nose brushing against his. "I'm still figuring out...everything."

"I'd like to help you with that, if you'll let me," he said in a move that was surprisingly smooth for someone so clumsy.

"_God_," I grumbled, finally meeting his eyes as he peeked up at me. "Are we really going to do this?" He suddenly seemed nervous, unsure how to respond. His heart sped up in his chest and he stared at me in worry, clearly stressed that I'd changed my mind. I pressed my lips back onto his, kissing him slowly to reassure him. "Well," I breathed, the kiss making me feel light. "I guess it's a good thing we have all summer to spend working on it."

"Think it'll be a relaxing few months?"

"I doubt anything could go more wrong than it already has."

And _fuck_, was I wrong.


	27. State Of Seduction

_Creating chaos just to prove we're alive_

_Demolition of a delicate kind_

_Midnight confessions keep on blurring the line_

_Say you're here on my side_

_Want you here on my side_

_You keep my heart under the cover of night_

_Could be the devil in a clever disguise_

_Temptation leads us, it's too late for goodbye_

State Of Seduction – Digital Daggers

* * *

I was woken from my slumber by the sound of a door slamming, and I grunted irritably, snuggling deeper into Stiles' unfortunately (for me at least) covered chest.

"Stiles? Have you – _oh!_" the sheriff cut himself off in surprise, and I peeked my eyes open, trying not to glare at my...at Stiles' father for interrupting my bliss. Stiles woke up a tad more violently, shooting into a sitting position and staring at his dad with wide eyes. "I didn't know you had...company," John said uncomfortably.

"Yeah, well I _do,_ so...?" he replied with bleary eyes, gesturing vaguely at the door.

"Right," he nodded, avoiding my eyes. "Well breakfast is ready," he told his son. "There's plenty for all of us." He turned around, striding back through the doorway, calling over his shoulder, "and the door stays _open,_ Stiles!"

We were silent for a long moment, listening as to the sound of his father making his way down the stairs. Stiles turned to me, looking adorably nervous. I rolled my eyes at him and leaned in, gently brushing my lips over his before pulling back and smiling. "I should go," I said regretfully, sliding out from under the covers and pushing myself to my feet, shoving my hands into the pockets of my borrowed hoodie.

"No!"

I turned back to Stiles in surprise, raising an eyebrow as the kid blushed.

"I mean – it'd be weirder if you left now. Just-just stay for breakfast," he said, trying not to sound like he was begging.

I smiled again, glancing sheepishly at the floor when his heart stuttered before glancing back up. "If you wish it," I mumbled lightly.

"I wish it," he responded, a grin overtaking his face. I beamed back at the reference to one of my all time favourite books, watching as he stood, running a hand over his short hair and heading for the door. "Do you want to take a shower?" he asked innocently, though I couldn't help but smirk at the implication. He flushed again, and I held my breath so I wouldn't catch his scent. "Not-not _with_ me," he stuttered nervously, pulling at the neckline of his shirt as though it were choking him.

"I'll be okay, thank you," I responded gently, and he nodded, pulling a handful of clothes from his drawers before smiling once and disappearing out into the hall.

Unsure what to do, I merely stood in the centre of his room for a long few minutes, unwilling to go face what was sure to be an awkward breakfast alone. I ignored the sound of Stiles fumbling in the shower, padding with bare feet over to his desk, smiling down at the pictures of his family and friends lining the back of it.

I reached into the jeans I hadn't taken off, pulling out a cigarette. I wasn't sure if smoking in the house was okay, but I couldn't leave to do it, and I sure as hell needed one to calm my nerves _and_ my cravings.

Sleeping next to Stiles, being immersed in his scent, it was maddening. I hadn't been lying when I'd told him I'd always lust for his blood. All I could do was hope it became easier with time. I took a seat at his desk chair, bare feet kicked up on the wooden desk as I lit the smoke, breathing in the chemicals, sighing happily as it took the edge off my hunger.

I'd almost finished it when Stiles came back into the room, dressed in jeans and a fresh flannel shirt. "Are you _smoking_?" he asked instantly, and I cringed sheepishly. "You really need to quit, you know," he said like I hadn't heard it from him a billion times already. "If my dad catches you smoking in the house you'll be dead."

"Too late," I chirped in good humour, and he rolled his eyes, plucking the cigarette from my fingers and tossing it into the waste basket beside his desk.

"Then _I'll_ be dead," he tried again, and I slid to my feet, arms wrapping comfortably around his neck.

"Well we can't have that," I mumbled coyly, leaning in so my lips brushed his ear. "If you died, who would I have to kiss?"

"Fair point," he replied before pulling back only to slam his lips to mine. I sighed contently, leaning into him, struggling to take things slow but knowing it was what the human needed. He pulled back to breathe and I paused, brow furrowing as I caught a familiar scent.

"Something's burning..." I muttered with a frown.

"Probably my dad attempting to cook bacon," he responded, tugging me back to meet his lips. I let him kiss me for one long moment before I heard the tell-tale crackling of fire coming from below us.

"Oh shit," I hissed, jumping back and staring down at the flaming waste basket helplessly. Stiles yelped loudly, staring in horror as the flames grew. "Why would you throw a lit cigarette into a bin full of _paper_?" I asked him, turning to look at him with wide eyes, wondering if he was really as smart as I'd given him credit for.

"I wasn't thinking!" he shouted back, glancing between me and the fire forlornly. "I was distracted by your lips!"

"And that's an excuse to set the house on fire?"

"Okay, now you're just being over-dramatic-"

He was cut off as the smoke alarm above us began to shriek, and he slammed his hands over his ears. "Oh, great," I sneered, gesturing to the wailing device. "Very smooth," I complimented falsely.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and a moment later Stiles' dad burst into the room, staring at the scene with wide, disbelieving eyes. When neither of us moved, he groaned, snatching an empty glass off the desk, rushing into the next room to fill it with water from the sink before darting back in and dousing the small waste basket with the liquid, instantly stopping the flames.

Stiles and I, neither having moved an inch, glanced at him sheepishly. He groaned again, running a hand down his face and staring at us with a glare. He opened his mouth, paused then shut it again. "You know what?" he finally said with an eerily calm expression. "I don't even want to know."

"That's probably for the best," Stiles nodded acceptingly, and John sighed before turning around and leaving the room.

* * *

Two weeks in to dating Stiles, I realised something.

I was laughing at something he'd said, laying back on his bed, my head tipped over the edge so I was staring at him upside-down as he rambled on about some stupid thing he'd done with Scott a few years back, sitting on the floor in front of me, a half-empty cup of Ramen in his lap.

I stopped giggling abruptly, blinking at him in shock. "What?" he asked, frowning suddenly.

"Nothing," I assured him with a small smile. "I just realised that it's been a long time since I've laughed this much."

He grinned happily, and I copied the action, my grin only widening as he leaned forwards to capture my lips with his own. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, since I was upside-down, but it was our own little brand of perfect.

* * *

**ONE MONTH LATER**

"Do you want chocolate or strawberry ice cream?" I called to Stiles in the other room, listening distractedly as he shuffled through the case of DVDs he'd brought over, trying to decide on one.

"Is that a trick question?" he yelled back, forgetting I'd be able to hear him even if he whispered. I smiled, rolling my eyes and scooping out a spoonful of each, tapping them into the waiting bowl.

I hadn't needed to be worried about what it would be like; being with Stiles came as easy as breathing. We'd slotted into each other's lives like we'd been there all along. He spent most of his days at my house where we'd spend time reading, or he'd try (unsuccessfully) to teach me how to cook. Some days he'd take me out, he'd get sick of Ramen or pizza and drive us to the local ice rink where he pigged out on hotdogs while watching me spin in circles on the ice. Sometimes we'd go to the cinema, he'd force me to eat the popcorn while I mumbled to him about the wonders of modern animation abilities.

I spent some time at his house too. He formally introduced me to his father as his girlfriend, which was about as sweet as it was awkward. The Sheriff had shook my hand and invited me in for dinner, which I accepted politely, finding that the gluten-and-fat-free pasta they were having wasn't as disgusting as it looked.

Together we spent a lot of time with Scott, either he'd come 'hang out' at my house, or we'd meet him somewhere, like at the lacrosse field where both boys were going every few days to keep their skills sharp. I'd sit on the sidelines, usually reading, and encouraging Stiles every time he got frustrated when he couldn't get a ball past Scott.

We'd been kissing a lot.

Stiles was, not only a teenager, but very much a human male. He was also, very awkward and unable to verbally communicate his request for the next level of intimacy. So far I hadn't relented, keeping things very PG-13. There were lots of reasons for it, him being a virgin at the top of the list. He was inexperienced, and in comparison I felt like kind of a slut.

He deserved more than me, in every way possible. I didn't want someone so...tainted, to take anything from him. Mostly though, I didn't want to take the next step only for him to regret it.

There was a knock at my front door that I heard over the sound of the jazz playing from the lounge room, pulling me from my reflection. "Can you get that Stiles?" I asked him loudly, and I heard my boyfriend stumble into something on his way to the door.

I hummed along to the jazz as I scooped another bowl for myself, half paying attention to the conversation happening at the door.

"_Uh, hi_?" Stiles asked whoever was there.

"_Juliet Adams live here_?" a curt and painfully familiar voice asked, and my eyes widened as I dropped the ice cream scoop, rushing to the front door in a blur of colour.

"Damon Salvatore," I drawled, appearing behind Stiles, making the kid jump while Damon merely smirked widely.

"What, no hug hello?" he asked, head tilted in a way I used to find adorable, now I just felt indifferent.

"To what do I owe the _pleasure_?" I questioned snidely, clearly revealing it was anything but.

"We need to talk," he said, eyes darting to a confused looking Stiles before landing back on me. "Alone."

"Hey!" Stiles snapped defiantly. "Anything you have to say to Juliet, you can say in front of me-"

"Stiles, go get started on that ice cream," I instructed him without taking my eyes from a smug looking Damon. I saw Stiles gaping incredulously in my peripheral vision. "Please," I added in a softer tone, and though he grumbled under his breath, he did as I asked, turning and heading for the kitchen. I waited until he was out of the room before nodding to the porch, stepping out beside my old friend, shutting the front door behind me. "So why're you in town?" I asked with narrowed eyes. "You've haven't brought trouble with you, have you?"

"No," he smirked, rolling his pretty blue eyes. "This time the trouble didn't follow me, _I _followed _it._"

"Oh?"

His expression of amusement dropped as though it'd never been there at all. He frowned, his strong brow furrowing as he struggled with how to word what he was trying to tell me. I raised my eyebrows, challenging him to speak up. "Klaus," he finally blurted uncomfortably, deciding to just be done with it.

I tensed, mouth suddenly feeling like it was full of cotton. I took a deep, steadying breath, suddenly feeling the irritating urge to kill something. "_My_ Klaus?" I asked cautiously.

"No, _the_ Klaus." I couldn't help the way my eyes dropped to the wooden boards of my porch, frowning uncomfortably. "Unless...holy shit, they're the same person, aren't they?" he asked, sounding a mix between shocked and annoyed. "You were turned by an _Original_?"

"How close?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Very," he said, crinkling his nose when I glared, letting him know he wouldn't be getting details today. "Just west of here, on the reserve."

"Why?"

"He's tracking werewolves."

I forced myself to keep breathing, though fear struck deep in my gut at the thought of Klaus getting his hands on Scott, or Isaac, or even Derek, who I could admit I didn't _completely_ hate. "Why?" I repeated seriously, eyes carefully trained on his face, monitoring his reaction.

"Long story short?" he asked and I nodded curtly. "He's a vampire-werewolf hybrid and he's looking for packs, with Stefan along for the ride, trying to make others like him so he has a neat little army all to himself."

"That...is a lot to take in."

"There's someone after Scott?!" Stiles exclaimed in a panic, shoving open the front door he'd been unsuccessfully hiding behind and tripping out onto the porch, staring up at a taller Damon in horror.

"_Who_?" he asked, shooting my freckled boyfriend an irritated look.

"What the hell's going on?!" Stiles tried again, and I rubbed a hand down my face, already exhausted. "What's an Original, why's it after Scott and who the _hell_ is Klaus?"

I turned to face Stiles, unable to find myself annoyed with him when I saw the worry and concern in his gaze. "This is not a conversation I'm having on the porch," I huffed, herding both men into my house. They went with little argument, Damon scowling as usual, eventually moving into my lounge room. Stiles took a seat on the couch while Damon meandered over to my fireplace, resting against it and surveying his surroundings with mild interest. I took the seat beside the human, folding my legs together on the seat and frowning as I tried to figure out where to start. "Klaus is the vampire who turned me 200 years ago."

"The one who made you into a vampire?" he asked for clarification, coffee eyes wide and focused on me.

"Yes."

"And he's_ here_? In Beacon Hills?"

I glanced up at an indifferent looking Damon. "Apparently."

"And what about Hybrids?" he asked confusedly.

Damon sighed in annoyance, having little patience with humans as always. I couldn't fault him for it, however, until recently I was much the same. "Alright kid, try and keep up," he snapped, crossing his arms over his unzipped leather jacket and Zeppelin shirt. "There's an ancient Aztec curse called the sun and the moon curse-"

"Yeah, I know," Stiles nodded quickly. "The curse says that werewolves can only turn on a full moon and vampires are weakened by the sun," he paused, glancing down at my heavy lapis lazuli ring before spying a similar one on Damon's middle finger. "Well, most are, anyway." He suddenly had a thought, turning to look at me in bewilderment. "But...Scott and Derek can change whenever they want, so I guess that means it can't all be true, right?"

"Werewolves only turning on a full moon is a myth created because werewolves are _enslaved_ by the full moon; they have no choice on those nights," I explained, trying to make it easy to understand.

"It's also helped along by the fact that a bite from a wolf on a full moon – and _only _on a full moon – is lethal to vampires," Damon added, and I glanced up at him in surprise.

"What?" I asked in shock.

His bored expression turned smug in an instant. "Do I know something the great Juliet Adams _didn't_?"

I ignored him, turning back to a frowning Stiles. It was good to know; I'd been so terrified of being bitten by one of the local wolves that, now I knew I need only be worried on full moons. It was definitely a load off. "So, what's the sun and the moon curse got to do with this Klaus guy?"

"Klaus is an Original," I explained, trying not to pay attention to the sick feeling in my stomach as I spoke of him. "It means he was one of the members of the first vampire family in history."

"How-how old is he?"

"A thousand," Damon supplied with a shrug. "Give or take."

"Oh."

"And while we're on the subject, how could you _not_ tell me you dated an _Original_? More than an Original even, _the _Original."

"If I went around telling everyone I'd been with _the _Klaus, I'd have a reputation for being an attention seeking whore at best and a mentally unstable immortal at worst," I snapped.

"Why wouldn't anyone believe you?" Stiles asked innocently from beside me.

"Because up until recently, he was a myth, a legend," Damon told him with a curled lip. "A bedtime story you told children so they'd behave."

"And he's your _ex_?!" Stiles turned to stare at me incredulously. I breathed deeply, resisting the urge to rub at my aching temples.

"I had a thing for bad boys," I muttered weakly.

"I remember," Damon smirked proudly, flinching away when I hurled a paperweight at his head.

"Besides, it wasn't just a _fling_," I explained, locking eyes with a suddenly insecure looking Stiles. "He was the vampire who turned me. I was...indebted to him. Connected in a way, if you will."

"You don't have a sire bond to the douche, do you?" the standing vampire asked with a disgusted grimace.

"No," I denied instantly, glaring at him for the mere suggestion. "I was just...young and enamoured."

"And this somehow ties in with the sun and moon curse because..." Stiles trailed off, hoping we'd fill in the blanks. I looked up at Damon for an explanation.

He sighed, clearly when he'd decided to stop by he didn't think he'd be giving a human a vampire history lesson. "The curse is a fake," he revealed, and Stiles eyes widened almost comically. "What the curse _really_ is, is a way of binding Klaus' werewolf side, preventing him from being a true hybrid or making others like him."

"But you said he was here to create hybrids," I interjected. "So that must mean..."

"He broke the curse a few weeks ago," Damon admitted.

"But he'd need-"

"The doppelganger."

"So when you said you had a Katherine look-alike, you really meant-"

"The doppelganger."

"Right." I paused, wondering how to continue. "At least tell me she's nothing like Katherine," I said hopefully, and I was surprised when his eyes lit up almost unnoticeably.

"She's _nothing_ like Katherine." He frowned, considering his words for a moment. "Well, she's a _little_ like Katherine, but she's way more likeable, and not nearly as bitchy."

I noticed the way he talked about her and I rolled my eyes. "Really Damon, a human?"

"You're one to talk," he snapped back, eyeing Stiles with an air of distaste. "I can smell him all over you. Really now, have you no standards?"

"At least I'm not in love with my brother's girlfriend who happens to be identical to the vampire that we both fell in love in love with and then subsequently got us killed back in 1864," I mocked, my tone sharp and cutting.

He winced, "Well, yeah, it sounds bad when you say it like _that_."

"Dude, your life is an episode of Days of Our Lives," Stiles spoke up, and Damon turned on him, sneering darkly.

"So why come at all, Damon?" I asked, preventing a fight from breaking out, one that Stiles would lose embarrassingly quickly. "Here to save Stefan?"

"More like 'keep an eye on Stefan'," he corrected, pulling a flask out of his jacket pocket and taking a swig.

"Aw, how sweet," I mocked, and he growled at me in annoyance. "Listen," I began after a beat. "I happen to be quite..._fond_ of the local werewolf population," I told him seriously. "What can I do to keep them out of harm's way?"

"Beats me," Damon shrugged carelessly. "He's _your_ ex."

"Whom I haven't seen in _150 years_."

"Damon-"

"Look, just tell them to keep out of the woods. With any luck he'll just pass through on his way up north. Heard word of an alpha pack a couple hundred miles up, I'm sure that's way more enticing than a few Californian strays."

I hesitated, unsure how to ask the question I needed to without sounding pathetic or scared. "And does he...does he know I'm here?"

Damon paused, baby blues narrowing at me as he considered my question. "I have no idea," he finally admitted. "I'd stay inside until he's gone though, unless you feel like having a reunion."

"Noted," I nodded. "How will I know he's gone?"

"Because I will be too."

I frowned, it took a moment for his words to sink in. "_No_," I growled, glaring at him irritatedly.

"Come _on,_ Adams," he whined annoyingly. "It'll be like, a _week_ tops."

"You have the money for a hotel room."

"Really, you're going to kick your dear, old friend out on the streets, in weather like this nonetheless?" he asked, gesturing to the window where the sun shone through from the cloudless sky. I grit my teeth, glare only hardening. "Either you let me stay willingly, or I'm going to annoy you until you don't have a choice. So why don't you take the easier option and save us all the trouble?"

I took a deep, calming breath, forcing myself not to attack.

"Besides, your new boy toy and I can compare notes," he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Stiles' usual red blotches appeared on his handsome face and he cleared his throat, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Unless...no way," he muttered, smirking like it was Christmas. "Really? _Juliet Adams_ hasn't sealed the deal yet? Are you kidding?"

I stood from the couch, stepping forwards and slamming my fist into Damon's gut. With a dignified hum I spun around, marching from the room and heading for the kitchen, intent on getting myself more ice cream.

"Dude, it's going to change your life. Seriously, _vamp sex_? It's like nothing you can even imagine..."

I stopped listening, spooning the frozen treat harder than necessary as I grumbled angrily under my breath.

* * *

Living with Damon wasn't so bad. He was gone most of the time, inconspicuously trailing his brother. I kept my head low, staying at home with Stiles more often than not, not wanting to risk being seen by Klaus on the off chance he rolled into town. It was a few days after Damon's arrival when my boyfriend finally plucked up the courage to ask me what the deal was with Klaus.

"It's complicated," I told him honestly, and he grimaced at the word.

"Simplify it?"

I walked away from the radio I was trying to tune, making my way over to where he sat on my couch, his laptop propped in his lap. He pushed it away as I sat beside him, turning to give me his full attention.

"When I was eighteen – this was in 1826 – a family swept through my town in England. They were noble and wealthy, but there was little else we knew about them. They kept to themselves, until one night they had a ball. There were a few of them there, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah and, of course, Klaus. My father accompanied me to the event, hoping I'd catch the eye of one of the allusive family members. It was very strange for me not to have been married yet; my sister married at fifteen. So we drank wine that I hated and ate grapes that were too sour, all the while parading me round like a prized stallion. I danced with a fair few men that night. None left an impression, except _him._"

I paused, glancing at Stiles, who appeared to be hanging on my every word.

"He was handsome and powerful and witty, everything one hoped for in a suitor. Unfortunately, as I saw something attractive in him, he saw something attractive in me. See, I didn't know who he was at the time, nor did I know of the games he liked to play with the young women in the towns he swept through. And that's what it was to him; a game. He didn't court me like a regular boy, he merely took me to the stables and ravished me," the blood looked caught between leaving and flooding his face, not sure how to react by my blunt statement. "And I was young and foolish and caught up in the excitement of it all. He would come by every few days, it wasn't until he turned me that I got my compelled memories back and learned he'd been drinking from me the whole time, feeding me his blood to heal the wounds and making me forget."

"So, what? One day he just...changed you?" Stiles asked quietly, still enraptured by my story.

"One day he told me what he was, gave me a rather gruesome demonstration and then...he offered to change me."

The human's eyes widened in something like horror, and I had to stop myself from flinching away. "You _chose_ this?"

I pushed myself to my feet, interlocking my fingers in front of me and pacing the length of the room, torn between the past and present. "He made it sound so...magical," I told him, trying not to appear as distraught as I felt. "He told I would be better; that I'd be stronger, more confident, more beautiful than I could imagine. He told me of the wonderful existence I would gain, how it would solve all my problems." I hesitated, glowering at the carpet. "He failed to mention what it would take."

"So...you just agreed to let him turn you into a _vampire_?"

I winced again, turning away, unable to stand the look in his coffee eyes. "I was in love. He convinced me that the only way we could be together was if I was turned."

"Obviously it didn't work out..."

"Obviously," I nodded, reluctant to continue. He didn't say anything, waiting for me to elaborated. I sighed tiredly, not in the mood to relive it all over again. "He turned me and for a while it was simply...euphoric. I was better in every way."

"Except the part where you drank blood to survive."

"You have to understand, Stiles," I said quietly, wringing my hands together. "To a newborn vampire, killing – it's our basic instinct. Its all we want: the hunt, the chase, the chance to feel the blood run down our throats as we take the life from a-" I cut myself off, hunger suddenly rearing it's ugly head in my gut. I took a deep, calming breath to steady myself. "The...bloodlust eventually dulls, fading until it's easier to control and you're not so completely blinded by it. I suppose it was what you'd call our 'honeymoon phase'.

"We tore through the continent, us and his family, creating chaos just to prove we were alive. I wanted nothing more than blood and Klaus, but I guess I just wasn't enough for him. It was hardly surprising, he was pushing 800 at the time. How could a twenty year old girl hold his interest?" I frowned again, not enjoying retelling the sad little tale. "He wanted a polygamous relationship," I told him, elaborating when he shot me a look of confusion. "He didn't want to be exclusive. I got over it, learned to love what little time I got with him. I faded into the background soon enough, I guess I became a part of his..._entourage_. Stayed with him and his family – or what was left of it – for about fifty years.

"Eventually I left. Klaus didn't mind me leaving, he had other things on his mind, other toys to keep himself occupied. Elijah – Klaus' brother – had broken away at the point, he was living in South America and when I tracked him down and asked if I could stay with him, he said no." I smiled ruefully at Stiles' confused frown. "I was confused too, but he explained that it was time for me to 'spread my wings' as he put it. He asked me what I'd always wanted to do but never got the chance – being so caught up in Klaus and all.

"The answer was, of course, education. I wanted to learn. I'd been all over the world and I'd never really bothered to learn any languages. So I went to school and studied linguistics, then when that ended I took up medicine, from there I tried my hand at music, did a bachelor of psychology which was fascinating.

"Klaus still found me from time to time, sweeping into town and having his wicked way with me, like I could ever deny him anything," even as I said it I noticed the parallel between my words and how I felt in regards to Stiles, but I refused to compare the two in depth. "I continued to kill, of course. I was a master at covering my tracks. Every city I went to had a long list of serial killers, as most cities tend to do with a vampire in town. I met Damon while I was studying Literature at Yale, I decided not to tell him about who Klaus really was, spinning some lie about him being some guy in the vampire mafia and he was content to believe it."

Stiles was quiet for a moment, digesting my words. "That's it?"

"The simplified, PG-13 version, yeah," I told him honestly.

He ran a hand down his face. "You know when you were talking you slipped into your English accent," he said, a weak smile on his pale lips.

"Did I?"

"Uh-huh," he nodded. "It was cute."

I stared at him, recalling my study in human psychology and wondering if he was showing signs of any mental conditions that would be affecting his reaction. "Your vampire girlfriend just told you she chose to be a serial killer who was part of what these days pretty much equates to supernatural gang activity, and you're calling her _cute?" _I hissed incredulously.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he responded with a somewhat dopey smirk.

I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temples. "You're fucking crazy," I murmured tiredly, with only a hint of amusement.

"So you're sure this Klaus guy won't drop in while he's close by?" he asked curiously, a flicker of something like nervousness in his eyes.

"As far as I'm aware, he doesn't even know I'm here."

There was a long silence that was only broken by Stiles' stomach making a loud grumbling sound.

"Come on," I said, unable to help my lips curling up at his sheepish expression. "Let me watch you make something to eat."

He grinned, standing and moving over to the kitchen. Before either of us could step into the room, the front door banged open loudly, making Stiles jump. I shifted in front of my boyfriend protectively, but I hadn't needed to, as a moment later Scott burst into the lounge room, breathing heavily as he stared at us in alarm.

"Scott?" Stiles asked worriedly.

"There's been an attack," his best friend told us with wide eyes. "Some kids got mauled down by the river."

"Mauled?" Stiles responded with a frown. "By what? An animal?"

"No," he shook his head. "By a werewolf."

**A/N: Super happy you guys liked the last chapter, it was one of my all time favourites to write! Some people have been asking about Juliet and Stiles' ship name, and after a lot of trial and error decision making, I've decided on...Stiliet. (Sti-liet) I kind of love it :) I also think some of you will be pretty happy with the guest appearance in this chapter, I know it's one of your biggest requests :)**


	28. Vicious Love

**_A/N: I've officially changed the rating as of this update, but don't get too excited, things don't get _too_ hot and heavy just yet ;)_**

* * *

_We've got a vicious love_

_We mix our tears with blood_

_No clock will stop for us_

_It ticks by_

_We fight as hard as we love_

_We've got a vicious love_

Vicious Love – New Found Glory

* * *

If you'd asked me how I'd wanted to spend my Saturday night, I would have said 'reading in front of the fire with Stiles' or 'watching the comedy channel with Stiles'. What was I doing instead?

Hunting _bloody _werewolves.

I was ankle-deep in mud, the ground gluggy after the recent rains, pushing my way through the forest of sludge, looking for any sign of the pack that had wandered into town. Scott, Derek, Isaac and I had split up (which I, for the record, thought was a terrible idea). It was only meant to be a reconnaissance mission, getting intel on the pack's whereabouts and reporting back to the group so we could form a plan.

Scott wanted to talk to them, ask them to leave town peacefully. Derek and I wanted to kill them.

Our plan was vetoed pretty much instantly.

"Wade through a swamp at dusk before the full moon, they said," I muttered to myself bitterly, leaning my weight on a tree as I avoided a rough looking sink hole. "It won't be so bad, they said." I stepped over the carcass of a decaying animal, mentally planning my revenge.

I glanced up at the sky, checking that the moon hadn't risen yet. According to my watch I had thirty more minutes before it would be high enough in the sky to trigger the shift, signalling the end of my shift. I sighed, cracking my knuckles, my narrowed eyes scanning the trees, looking for any hint of a wolf. I was so focused on my task that when my phone rang it made me jump. I bit my tongue, swearing loudly and fishing the device from my pocket.

"What?" I snapped at the caller irritably.

"_No sign of the pack in my zone_," Derek's hard voice replied, caring little for my sour attitude.

"Thought I caught a whiff of wet dog a few miles back, but I couldn't track it through all the mud," I replied tightly, scowling deeply at him even though he couldn't see it.

"_Your sense of smell is no match for mine, I'll come down to your zone and try and track it_."

"Anything you can do, I can do better," I bit back childishly.

"_Sure_," he replied patronisingly.

"You know what Derek?" I asked, clutching my phone so tightly I heard it creak under the pressure. "You can go suck a fuck."

"_How exactly am I meant to_-"

"Shut up."

He cut himself off abruptly, albeit begrudgingly. "_What_?" he asked after a long minute of silence. I didn't respond, all of my attention on the sound of footsteps coming from the shadows. "_Juliet_?" My eyes narrowed at the source of the sound, and then glowing amber eyes were shining from the darkness.

"Meet me in my zone," I told Derek under my breath. "And bring backup."

I hung up straight after, turning to face the werewolf, hands held out placatingly. "You are vampire," a stilted, accented voice stated from the darkness, and I looked to my right where another pair of eyes, these ones glowing blue, stared at me. "You are one of Klaus's?"

I frowned at the question. "No," I told him honestly. He shifted his weight, slipping closer, allowing me to see the rest of him. He had dark skin, a scar running across his cheek and a sneer on his lips, wearing nothing but a dirty pair of jeans. "I'm a friend."

The other wolf stepped out, dressed much the same as his pack mate. He opened his mouth and words flew out, none of which I understood. They seemed to be speaking some kind of African dialect, possibly Swahili. They argued for a long moment, growls punctuating sentences, faces half transformed with fangs protruding from their thick lips.

"Are you running from Klaus?" I asked tightly, and their dark gazes snapped to me instantly.

The blue eyed one looked like the last thing he wanted to do was answer, but amber eyes spoke up before he could stop him. "Are _you_?"

"I was," I admitted softly, staring into his eyes, silently communicating I was no threat. "For a long time I was. But not any more."

I could tell he was curious, probably desperate for a way out of the life he lived. "How?"

"Time," I answered him, and he looked like he was about to reply when a twig snapped from the darkness beyond them. I cringed, glaring through the shadows at Derek, who stepped into the moonlight and stared back at the newcomers stonily. "He'll get bored of chasing you eventually."

"The Original does not let go of a grudge," he told me darkly.

He had a point. "Well you're not wrong," I allowed, crossing my arms over my chest, appearing relaxed but not for a second letting my guard down.

"What's an Original?" Derek asked from his place to the side, voice an irritated growl.

"Your worst nightmare," Blue Eyes snapped back, dark skin creasing around his lashes. The alpha shot me a confused look, and I shot him a sharp look back, silently telling him I would explain at a later date.

Before he could reply, there was a piercing howl from deep in the woods, making my hair stand on end. My fangs slipped free in defence, and the wolves growled in response. It was tense and silent, all of us unwilling to be the first to break. Finally I decided that – being the oldest – it was up to me to smooth things over. "You can't stay in town over the full moon," I told them seriously, ignoring the way their eyes flashed indignantly. "The people in this town are under our protection," I explained in a hard voice. "We will not put them at risk."

"And what authority do you hold to tell us what we can and cannot do?"

My jaw clicked angrily. "I'm older," I said childishly, resorting to petty tactics, foolishly hoping it would win the argument. Unfortunately they were too mature to sink down to my level, neither of them bothering to reply.

There was another howl that seemed to echo all around us. "We must go," Amber Eyes said shortly, glancing into the shadows behind him.

"You'll leave before tomorrow night?" Derek confirmed, but again, neither of them responded, merely sending us cool stares before turning around and sliding into the night, footsteps heavy on the wet earth. "We'll patrol again at dusk," he said once they were out of earshot.

"But tomorrow's the full moon," I pointed out with a frown.

"So?"

I huffed in annoyance but decided not to argue. I'd gone this many years without a deadly werewolf bite, one more trapeze into danger wouldn't hurt me. "At dusk," I agreed with a bow of my head.

Without further detail I spun around, disappearing into the depths of the forest, an excited thrill shooting through me as I thought about my destination.

* * *

"You know," I began conversationally, throwing one leg over the other and reclining back into Stiles' desk chair. His heart jumped in surprise, but he was getting slightly better at controlling his reaction, merely gasping from where he sat on his bed, pouring over the documents in front of him. "I think the point of Summer vacation is that you get a _break_ from work, not to take the opportunity to do more."

He grinned once he recovered, heart continuing to race as his eyes trailed from my leather pants, to his old sweater, to my windswept hair. "It's research," he told me, clicking his pen over and over.

"On?" I asked curiously.

"The Originals."

I didn't say anything for a long moment, memories flashing behind my eyes like a film. Images of a blonde vampire, her blue dress wrapping around her like water as she laughed at a stupid joke; a dapper dark haired vampire, sneering as he sipped blood from a wine glass; a handsome vampire with a strong jaw and a heightened sense of honour, reading aloud from a heavy latin volume, eager to share his knowledge; a sandy haired hybrid, blue eyes glittering in the candle light, smirking up at me devilishly as his hands flew across parchment, the soft scratch of his pencil the only sound filling the room...

"And what did you find?" I asked as a moment later, refusing to admit I'd faltered.

Stiles sighed tiredly. "Pretty much nothing," he grumbled, clearly not happy about the answer. "I found some old scans from a journal back in the nineteenth century, but none of them were very clear, and they didn't for a second mention vampires, so I can't be sure if it's really him."

"I'm not surprised," I shrugged, swinging softly on the swivel chair. "Most of my kind barely believe they even exist, not many believe the Original family is anything more than a legend."

"What were they like?" he asked eagerly, abandoning his research and watching me, curious about my answer.

Although I'd given him the basic outline of my story, I'd scarcely given him detail. Even though I was reluctant to do so – for I wasn't in the mood to relive any of it – I felt like I owed it to him. I was...involved with him, he deserved to know everything.

"Kol was mischievous, funny and unwaveringly ruthless. He made for an exceptionally fun vampire." I hesitated, but knew I'd gone too far to take a step back now. "A common trait in my kind is a love of torture, and Kol was no exception. We both lived off the chaos as much as we lived off the blood, we weren't necessarily friends, but we did bond over our mutual love of disarray.

"Rebekah was beautiful and sweet, but she could turn deadly in an instant should you cross her. She had a difficult time making friends, so when I was brought into her world, she was all too eager to show me the ropes. We fought like crazy, or I suppose 'bickered' is a more appropriate word. Still, we were close, but in the end I wasn't enough of a reason for her to stand up to her brother.

"Elijah was the academic one. We had a shared love of knowledge, on the rare occasions when I wasn't in the mood and when the others would tear through towns like hurricanes, we would haul up in the local library, desperate to get our hands on new material and learn. He was kind but no less brutal, which worked well for me. I never felt like he judged me."

I was silent for a minute, frowning at my dirty shoes as I collected my thoughts.

"And Klaus?" Stiles asked, unsure if I was going to continue.

"Klaus was – on the surface – charming and appealing, he seemed to do everything right. He was witty and smart, mysterious and powerful. He was everything a young and impressionable girl could want. He seemed to be faultless, at least, until he turned me. Things only seemed to worsen once I was one of them.

"Looking back I can see how controlling and manipulative he was, but at the time I was...in love, I suppose; blinded by what I felt for him."

"What did you do with him?" Stiles asked inquisitively.

I smiled ruefully, the expression bitter. "Tortured, mostly. Caused pandemonium, turmoil – chaos in any way we could." Stiles had a thoughtful frown on his freckled face, and I was terrified about what was happening inside of his head. I'd said too much. "You have to understand, I was young and I didn't know any different. I didn't know there was an alternative way to live this life. If I could go back and do it all over, I would, but-"

"I wouldn't."

I paused, brows pulling together in confusion. "What?"

"I wouldn't change any of it," he said slowly. I tilted my head curiously. "Everything that happened, it led you here," he explained, red blotches appearing on his cheeks though his expression stayed sincere. "So I wouldn't change any of it."

I didn't reply for a long minute, observing him thoughtfully. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say," I finally spoke, lips twitching up into a pleased smirk. He spluttered helplessly for a long minute, unsure where to go from there. He looked uncomfortable, so I threw him a bone. "Still, sweet has _nothing_ on sour," I told him with a mischievous glint to my gaze. "So don't feel pressured to keep sprouting romantic bullshit in an attempt to impress me."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but something seemed to be stopping him. The last thing I wanted to do was push him, so I let it go, merely spinning gently on the chair, idly clicking my tongue.

It was silent for a long time as Stiles stared down at the papers in his hands, mind clearly elsewhere, and I tipped my head back, closing my eyes and simply relaxing in my human boyfriend's presence.

After a decent chunk of time had passed, Stiles let out a loud yawn, and I opened my eyes, watching him closely before my gaze darted to the clock by his bed, brow furrowing as I took in the time. "It's 5am," I stated with a frown, and Stiles nodded, sliding to his feet and beginning to put away his research. "Why didn't you say something? You should have gone to bed ages ago."

He shrugged, eyes on his work. "I wouldn't have slept anyway, not until I was sure you were okay," he told me quietly as he shuffled the papers in his hands.

My lips curved up and by the time he turned to face me, I was inches away from his face, making him gasp under his breath. "You worry about me?" I asked coyly, raising a single eyebrow at him flirtatiously, taking pleasure in the way his heart stuttered. He didn't answer, clearing his throat, unable to tear his gaze from mine. "You know I'm a 200 year old vampire, right?" I said, head tilting up and leaning in, just enough that our lips brushed. "I can take care of myself."

"Like you did when Peter scratched you at the school? Or when you drowned in the pool with the kanima? Or the time when the Argents kidnapped and tortured you? How about when-"

"Okay," I cut him off, narrowing my eyes up at him. "So I've been a little off my game since coming here," I allowed reluctantly, reaching up to wind my arms around his neck, blinking innocently. "You're very distracting, you know?" I leaned closer but he didn't move to meet me, something holding him back. I sighed, inching closer and brushing our noses together. "Nothing bad is going to happen to me," I assured him softly. "I've been around a long time, it'll take more than a few stray dogs to get rid of me."

He still didn't look convinced. "Regardless, I'd feel better if you stayed inside tomorrow night," he mumbled, a rare, serious expression on his features.

I rolled my eyes with a smirk, secretly pleased about how he worried. "I've survived over 2000 full moons so far, one more won't kill me," I told him reassuringly, thumbs lightly stroking the sensitive skin at the back of his neck.

The concerned frown seemed to be glued to his enticing lips. "I just...I have a bad feeling about this one," he conceded warily.

I didn't want to give in, it wasn't in my nature. But as I stared up into his honey brown eyes, I admitted to myself, for what was surely the hundredth time, that I couldn't deny him anything.

"I'll stay inside," I vowed, curling my fingers around his skin, ignoring the way I felt the blood pump from beneath it.

The tension seemed to evaporate from his body, and he sagged with something like relief, dipping his head until his brow pressed gently against mine. "Promise me you'll be okay?" he begged quietly, and I was taken aback by how serious he was being, by how vulnerable he appeared to be.

I couldn't help but say exactly what he wanted to hear. "I promise," I assured him, honestly believing my own words. He nodded, yawning loudly but shifting forwards enough to plant a sloppy kiss on my lips. "I think it's bedtime," I told him, pulling away and ignoring the way he chased after me.

He groaned unhappily, pouting down at me. "Five more minutes," he said as though I were some kind of authority figure. I chuckled lightly, giving in and surging forwards, slamming my lips onto his.

He smiled, clearly pleased he'd won me over, fingers dragging down over the exposed skin of my arms then curling around my waist, pulling me flush against him. I sighed into the kiss, happy to be close with him, enjoying our time alone. It was like we were in our own little universe, the world around us dark and silent, only his bedside lamp filling the room with a muted glow.

He leaned into me, humming in satisfaction, changing the angle of the kiss, tongue flicking out to shyly brush against my lower lip. It was like an electric jolt, the otherwise useless cavity in my chest seeming to be both heavy and weightless in the same instant. My hands ran up passed his ears, fingers clutching uselessly at his short hair. I broke away reluctantly, allowing him a moment to breathe.

"You should grow your hair," I whispered to him amorously as I brushed my thumbs through his buzz cut and peeking my eyes open to stare at him, enjoying the way red flooded his cheeks.

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, eyelids still closed like they were too heavy to lift. His heart was beating up a storm in his chest, and I felt warmly proud that I evoked such an intense reaction within him.

"Oh yes," I confirmed lightly, ducking forwards to playfully nip at the seam of his lips. "I love to have something to tug on."

He swallowed loudly, finally sliding open his eyes to peer down at me, surprisingly confident looking. "Noted."

I wasn't sure who moved, but in the next second our mouths were once again pressed to each other's, tongues impatient and eager. His hands clutched at my back, fingers dragging across the fabric of my shirt, clearly dying to feel my cool flesh. I kissed him deeper, encouraging him to go further, to push the limits we'd set. His hands were shaking but he was braver than usual, palms finally slipping under the soft material of my shirt, and he moaned deliciously, his fingers running over my back.

I smiled with pleasure, humming quietly myself and pressing impossibly closer, fingernails dragging across the skin I could reach with only a sliver of my potential strength, careful not to rip the smooth, warm, freckled flesh that I loved so very much.

Our tongues tangled together and he pressed into me, moaning loudly when I copied the action, impishly hooking one knee over his hip and rolling my hips into his. He pulled away for a moment, reluctantly desperate for air. Thankful, for once, for my lack of necessity to breathe as I continued down the column of his throat, unwilling to pull my lips from his skin for even a second.

His breathing was shallow and his skin hot to the touch. I lavished attention to his neck, simultaneously inhaling his irresistible scent.

I didn't realise what a mistake I'd made until the achingly familiar taste of fresh blood hit my tongue, the liquid pooling in my mouth, making my entire body hum with energy. I ripped away from my human boyfriend, hand snapping to my mouth in horror as I stared at the cut my fangs had made in his otherwise perfect skin, a drop of blood rolling down to his collarbone tantalisingly.

My eyes began to burn and I once again felt the intense need to throw up. I swallowed the urge, the once glorious blood suddenly like acid as it slid down my throat. "I'm sorry," I managed to murmur, never having hated myself as intensely as I did right then.

It wasn't my first time getting physically close to a human, every vampire tried it at one point or another. It _was_, however, the first time I'd been intimate with one without the intention of drinking from them. That was the last thing I wanted in this case. I wasn't used to resisting the urge; it was entirely new, and apparently I wasn't very good at it.

Stiles still looked flushed, his shirt was askew and his lips were gratifyingly swollen, eyes glazed over like he wasn't even in the room with me.

"What?" he asked after a long pause as I continued to stare at him, full to the brim with self-loathing. "_Sorry_?"

I shot him an incredulous look, glancing pointedly at his bleeding neck. With a frown he lifted his hand, fingers gently brushing the broken skin, appearing surprised when he looked down and saw the blood smeared on his pale skin.

"Oh," he breathed, and I wondered how he possibly couldn't have felt me _biting_ him. Realisation slowly flooded his face, and he shot me a nearly apologetic expression. He was too smart to try actually apologising or anything so stupid, instead looking at me with sympathy. "It's alright Jules," he told me, voice overflowing with sincerity.

Now that he knew the cut was there, the ache that no doubt came with it caught his attention, and he pressed his fingers to the wound, wincing slightly. Overwrought with guilt, an idea floated into my head, one I had, until now, violently pretended didn't exist.

Blood sharing.

I'd considered it, of course, but up until then I hadn't felt it was an option. The urge to do it was as much a part of me as my fangs were, but Stiles was human, and I'd assumed the idea was disgusting as it no doubt sounded.

But I stared at Stiles, watching him watch me, eyes filled with worry not for himself, but for me. I melted, my eyes still watering in a way I would forever deny. I stepped closer, relieved when he didn't flinch away. My hand drifted up to softly brush the knick on his neck, I wanted to apologise again, but I knew he wouldn't be pleased, so I held my tongue.

"I can heal it," I said before I'd made any conscious decision to speak.

His eyes widened and his heart sped up, but there was no fear or disgust in his gaze. I would almost describe his expression as...excited, or interested perhaps. We'd talked at length about my abilities, for someone who was barely scraping by at school, he sure did have a thirst for knowledge. He knew my blood healed human wounds, he didn't, however, know what a sacred and humungous step it was for a vampire to take.

Sharing blood? I might as well have asked him to be my mate.

It was dangerous; what if something happened to him while my blood was in his system? I couldn't deny the pleasure that curled in my gut at the thought of turning him, but I knew it would have to be completely consensual, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if it happened without his permission.

I wondered if that made me a terrible excuse for a person, caring about someone so much I was considering _killing_ them; damning their soul for all eternity. And the thought of it _excited_ me.

He barely seemed to think about my offer, pausing only a split second before nodding in a way I would almost say was eager. My stomach fluttered as my emerald eyes blinked up at his honey brown, his skin still flushed and his heart thudding in nervous anticipation. Without breaking eye contact my arm rose to my mouth, my fangs slipping free as I unflinchingly bit into the delicate skin at my wrist, my own unappetising blood pooled in my mouth, and I pulled it away, holding it out to Stiles, who appeared jittery but also intrigued and eager.

There was also the unmistakable glint of lust in his enchanting gaze, which did things to me that not even Klaus, Damon and Johnny Depp combined could achieve. In a movement that was entirely too sexy for his own good, he sealed his lips around my bleeding wound, keeping eye contact with me the whole time.

My breath literally caught in my throat as his tongue flicked out and swiped at the puncture wound, hesitating only a moment before he began sucking. The blood surged from my veins in a feeling I could only describe as pure pleasure. I bit my lip, desperately trying to contain an embarrassing moan. Stiles' eyes slid shut and he hummed in apparent bliss.

After a moment longer than appropriate I finally (and reluctantly) pulled my wrist away from his lips, the wound instantly closing, leaving healed, unblemished skin behind. I let a euphoric sigh escape my lips, feeling content in a way I only usually did when I drank from the source. It was a different kind of satisfaction, one that settled in my soul rather than my body.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, because as always, Stiles was my priority.

His eyes cracked open a fraction and he peered up at me blearily. "Yeah," he nodded, then stopped and winced like the motion made him dizzy. "I'm better than okay." He was quiet for a moment, and I shuffled closer, barely able to stand the inches between us.

"Come on," I prompted him quietly, reaching over to thread our fingers together lazily. "Sleep time."

He let me lead him over to the bed. He sat down robotically, still dazed. I kicked my shoes off, turning off the lamp beside the bed before slipping under the covers with him, curling around him like a barnacle, uncaring how it may have looked.

"Is-is that...special?" he asked after a beat, blinking at me sleepily through the dark.

"What?" I whispered back innocently, hoping he'd get sidetracked and not ask further.

"Blood sharing?" he clarified, and even though he couldn't see my face I still buried my head in his collarbone, running my lips over his soft skin. "I read that it was kind of a...personal thing to do."

I didn't want to tell him the truth, but I also knew lying wasn't an option.

"It is," I confirmed, idly tracing a pentagram onto his shoulder.

He was quiet, breathing steadily as he processed my words. "Why'd you do it then?" he asked, tone coloured with confusion. "To me of all people?"

I smiled at how adorably confused he sounded. "It must mean I kinda like you," I shrugged with a coy smile, making sure he could feel the movement.

"Really?" he questioned, a smile in his voice. I rolled my eyes, as though kissing him senseless mere minutes ago wasn't proof enough.

"Well, at the very least, I tolerate you," I told him, recalling a time I'd said the exact same thing, only it had been filled with far less meaning at that point so many months ago.

"...I tolerate you too," he told me, clearly drowsy.

I grinned, pressing a kiss to his neck before pulling back, throwing an arm over him and burrowing into his side, sighing happily as he nuzzled my hair, not-so-subtly inhaling the scent.

It should have frightened me, how drastically my life had changed over only a short amount of months. It should have horrified me that I'd become domesticated, reduced to something as tame as a common house cat. It should have terrified me that I'd fallen completely and inescapably in love with this human boy.

It _should _have scared me to pieces.

But it didn't.


	29. Fire

_Don't blame your death _

_On the shit in your head that you claimed_

_ate you like a virus for days on end._

_I watched you decay,_

_Watched you waste away._

_Who'd you think you'd fool, baby, _

_digging your own grave?_

Fire – PVRIS

* * *

"He should have called back by now."

"Maybe he's at work."

"He doesn't work on Wednesdays."

"Then maybe there was an emergency with his mom."

"At the same time that he just so _happens_ to be running around in the woods, tracking a pack of rogue werewolves on _a full moon_?!"

I sighed, slamming my book shut with a loud _snap_. Clearly I wasn't going to get any further down the page until the issue was resolved. "Scott's a big boy," I reminded my boyfriend, eyeing him as he paced the length of his bedroom floor, staring down at the phone in his pocket, willing it to light up with a text from his best friend.

"You're a big girl," he reminded me snidely. "And you've still managed to nearly get yourself killed on multiple occasions in the six months I've known you."

I wanted to argue the point, but the kid had a valid argument. "He's got Derek with him," I said placatingly. "And Isaac, and – God help us all – Peter."

"Yeah, but they probably split up to cover more ground," he retorted anxiously, fingers tapping restlessly against his leg. Again, he made a good case.

"What do you wanna do?" I asked sarcastically, sitting straighter and crossing one leg over the other. "Take the Jeep out and drive into the forest on a full moon to try and find your best friend who may or _may not _be in trouble and running from a pack of hungry werewolves?" He was silent, giving me all the answer I needed. "We're _not_ doing that, Stiles."

He sagged, taking two large steps forwards to fix me with a pleading look. "Come _on_," he whined, but I gave no other reply than a stone cold stare. He sighed, brushing the bridge of his nose with his thumb tiredly for a long minute. Finally he collected himself, blinking down at me where I was lounged lazily on his bed with an uncharacteristically serious expression. "You know I wouldn't do it unless I had a good reason."

"And your reason is?"

"I have a bad feeling."

I wanted to debate his words, but I knew there was a validity to what he'd said that I couldn't ignore. If there was one thing that had become abundantly clear in my extremely long lifetime, it was that you should, above all else, trust your gut.

"Okay," I finally nodded, and Stiles looked relieved. He knew he didn't need my permission to do anything, but he obviously felt better having it. I slid to my feet, striding over to where my old combat boots lay in the corner.

"Um, what are you doing?"

I looked up at him like he was stupid. "I'm not going into the forest without shoes on," I told him, brow raising dubiously. "I may be a vampire but I'm not a barbarian."

"What? No," he huffed, sparing a moment to roll his eyes. "You're not coming with me."

I looked up at him, eyebrow raised dangerously. "Excuse me?"

"It-it's a full moon," he stuttered, gesturing wildly to the window where I could see the silvery glow of the moon peeking passed the clouds.

"If you think I'm letting you go gallivanting through the forest while a pack of untamed and uncontrollable wolves are running loose, you're not as smart as I tend to give you credit for," I told him with a stern stare.

"But Jules-"

"Either we both go or I'm going to take the battery out of your Jeep and throw it in a lake."

He didn't appear very happy with my ultimatum, but grumbled an agreement nonetheless. I felt a flash of sympathy, I knew how much he worried about his friend. I was worried too, Scott was important to Stiles, and, to a lesser extent, me. I'd come to see the teen wolf as somewhat of a friend myself over the last few months, and if there was one thing I needed, it was more friends.

"I'll call Damon," I told him softly, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching down at grab my discarded shoes, pulling them on my feet slowly. "He said he'd be out tracking Klaus and the pack tonight. Maybe he knows something."

"Good idea," he murmured, patting his pockets, double checking he had his keys and phone before spinning around and heading for the door. With an eye roll I trotted after him, appearing at his side as he began his trek down the stairs.

"_Hello_?" the eldest Salvatore brother answered the phone with attitude, sounding irritated with me before I'd even spoken.

"Where's the pack?" I asked instantly, not in the mood for pleasantries.

"_You know, I have better things to do than keep an eye on those mongrels-_"

"Where?" I repeated, slipping into the passenger seat of the jeep, a burst of air hitting my face as Stiles turned on the AC.

"_North-East," _he replied tightly. "_About a five minute run from the edge of town._"

"Got it," I nodded, then paused, watching distractedly as Stiles pulled out onto the main road. "Damon, is he-?"

"_Last I knew Klaus was heading South_," he told me, a gentle tone to his voice that wasn't there before. "_You won't run into him_."

"Okay," I replied simply, forgoing a thank you and mumbling a goodbye before hanging up, slipping the phone into my pocket. "Take a right up here, and continue onto Kinsmen road," I told Stiles, pointing halfheartedly in the northern direction. He nodded, eyes scanning the shadows he couldn't see through, looking for any hint of his best friend. "We're heading into the thickest part of the forest?" I asked for clarification.

"Well they're not going to be spending the full moon at the bowling alley, are they?" he retorted sourly, and though it was meant to be biting, I couldn't hold back my smirk.

We were both quiet for a while, each searching the darkness for the pack. "Let me out up here," I instructed him, reaching for the handle.

"What? No," he replied with a worried frown.

"I'll be faster on foot," I said logically, bending over to make sure my laces were properly tied.

"Remember what I said about having a bad feeling?" he asked, concern colouring his tone.

I sighed, reaching across to wrap my fingers around his. "I'll be fine," I assured him softly. He still didn't look convinced. "You're not going to find Scott from the car," I told him honestly, and he glanced away from the road to meet my eyes briefly. "I have a better chance of helping him if I can track him, and I can't do that from here." He didn't look like he wanted to listen. "You know I'm right."

He was scowling as he pulled over onto the side of the road, the brakes squeaking as we rolled to a stop. "Call me every ten minutes, and also the _minute_ you find Scott, or, hell, even Derek."

I didn't like the overprotectiveness, but I decided to let it slide for now. I leaned over the centre console, pressing my lips to his gently. He kissed me back, and I could feel his anxiety through our connected lips. "You'll see me soon," I vowed with a soft smile as I pulled back.

Before he could comment further I slipped from the jeep, shoes hitting the dry dirt ground with a muted thud. "It'd better be in one piece when I do!" he called back snidely. I flashed him a wicked grin, my teeth no doubt glistening menacingly in the glow of the full moon. He shot me a concerned look, but I paid him no heed, blowing him a cheeky kiss before letting the door swing shut, spinning around and disappearing into the shadows between the trees.

The stench of wet dog clung to everything, making it difficult to get a hold of where the source was. Eventually, as I stepped over logs and dodged low hanging branches, I came across a field that reeked so intensely of mutt that I felt the urge to dry-heave. I grimaced, keen eyes sweeping the darkness for any hint of danger, my senses in overdrive.

I needn't have worried; the whole area was clean, not a single puppy in sight. I exhaled sharply, glancing up at the starry night sky and asking whoever would listen for patience. I turned around, just about to head deeper to the North when an ear-splitting howl reverberated through the forest, shaking the leaves around me and making my ears ring.

I wasn't a wolf, so there was little I could do to determine who it was like so many other dogs could do. The sound did have something familiar about it though, and I knew instinctually that it was Scott. I darted into the tree line, green eyes cutting through shadows like they were nothing, running at full speed in the direction the pained howl had come from.

I was only running a good three minutes before I had to stop dead, very nearly running into another familiar face. "Derek?" I hissed, eyes narrowing as I took in his tired expression, blood dripping from the nostrils that was too small for his face.

The alpha shushed me, glaring at me through the dark. I glared right back, silently demanding him to tell me what exactly the fuck was going on. He pressed a single finger to his lips, shaking his head negatively and looking pointedly at a spot far off in the distance.

Another howl cut through the night, and my attention snapped to the fire roaring a good dozen yards away, flickering in a small clearing. It took a moment to figure out what I was looking at, but eventually I realised I was seeing Scott, held to the ground, the paws of a giant wolf keeping him immobile.

I took off running, ignoring the way Derek grabbed at my arm, shaking him off and making a beeline for the clearing. I didn't realise my mistake until I'd tumbled out into the firelight, seven sets of glowing eyes looking up at me, drool dripping from their barred teeth, warning growls echoing through the space.

"Get out of here!" Scott yelled at me suddenly, but I ignored him too, swallowing thickly and ducking into a defensive crouch, barring my own set of fangs at them, silently sizing up my opponents.

Two of them were fully transformed, but the rest must have been young, because they were all still half-human with sharp, ugly claws protruding from where their fingernails should have been. The biggest one looked like he'd be the toughest to take down, but I had speed on my side, and he looked so large he was likely clumsy, giving me the advantage. His red eyes made it clear he was an alpha, but with a pack so big I didn't expect him to do all the fighting alone.

There was a shifty looking skinny one off to the side by a bush, she looked a hair away from going postal, but she couldn't possibly be any more reckless than I was, so I wasn't _too_ worried about her. The only other one who looked to be a problem was a large, dark skinned kid who reminded me of Boyd, but this guy was shorter, and had a glint in his eyes, it was almost hungry.

Overall, I could have taken any of them individually any day of the week. But all at once? Seven against one?

I didn't like those odds.

I knew my best bet was to get Scott the hell out of there, and I wasn't a fan of the method I'd have to use to do it, but I didn't see any other way out. If there was one thing that caught a werewolf's attention on a full moon more than an outsider, it was a vampire.

"Hello puppies," I said with a large grin, standing from my defensive position, forcing my shoulders to relax. The one standing on Scott's chest cocked it's head, amber eyes glaring at me.

"What are you _doing_?" Scott growled desperately, staring up at me from the forest floor with wide, alarmed eyes.

My mischievous grin didn't falter, and I took an experimental step closer, seven wolves growling deep in their chests in response. "It's okay, Scott," I told my friend calmly, eyes widening at the large alpha in silent challenge. "It's been awhile since I had a good run."

"Jules!" he murmured with trepidation, flinching when the wolf holding him down snapped it's jaws at him warningly.

"Here doggy, doggy," I taunted with a sneer that probably appeared more confident than I felt. The alpha wolf looked back up at me, growling threateningly. I forced my lips into an impish grin, and it snarled.

I took an experimental step backwards, deliberately putting my weight on a stick, eyebrows raising as it cracked. I had a split second to act, I looked down, catching Scott's gaze, staring down at him, my voice laced with seriousness.

"Run."

Then I was the one running, a pack of hungry, angry, wild werewolves on my tail, teeth snapping together and claws extended out, desperately trying to sink into my skin. I was faster, I knew I would be; I always was. But I couldn't run forever.

My best bet was to keep them running until the moon set, then hopefully their lunacy driven haze would lift and they'd actually have some form of common sense and humanity returned to them. I exhaled the warm summer air, ducking under a low branch then leaping over a large fallen tree. The wolves behind me wouldn't catch up any time soon, but the alpha looked like he was actually making some progress. I could hear him getting closer, and I realised he'd have to be extremely powerful to catch up to me.

I ran for a long time, changing directions and dodging trees in an effort to lose them. I came close to the edge of town at one point, not realising how near I was to civilisation until I heard a car horn honk. I took a sharp right, instantly diving deeper into the forest, away from anywhere that a human could get caught in the crossfire.

Finally, just as the sun was peeking above the trees, the wolves chasing me began to drip away. One-by-one the sound of their footfalls on the soft earth began to stop, either they were tiring or they were getting bored. I couldn't blame them.

I was exhausted.

I couldn't keep running, but a glance to the heavens told me the full moon still hung up above the clouds, looming steadily in the pretty pink sky. The glance away from my path turned out to be my downfall. With my eyes off my path, my foot caught on a large stone, my momentum propelling me across the small clearing.

I landed on the ground, my weight falling on my arm, which snapped under the pressure. I hissed, flipping onto my back, cradling my broken bone tenderly. The three mutts still on my tail were only a few seconds behind me, so with my good arm I reached out, grasping desperately at the dewey grass. My fingers curled around a thick stick, and I clutched at it, waiting until the wolves were on top of me before swinging it up and burying the sharp end of the wood in the half-human's side.

It howled in agony and unappetising blood spilled out over my hand. Trying to shelve the pain of my broken arm, I pushed myself to my feet, instantly snapping out my foot and slamming it into a fully transformed wolf's side. It yelped, thrown off to the side and smashing painfully against a tree. Thankfully the remaining one was still on two legs, though it's eyes were the glowing red and I knew it was the _bloody _alpha.

We stared at each other, waiting for the other to make a move as we listened to the wind whistle through the trees and his betas whimper miserably from behind us.

I knew the smart thing to do was keep my mouth shut, but I just couldn't help the tired smirk that spread across my lips. "Looking a little 'rough', pup," I commented with a shit-eating grin. "Need a time out?"

He growled, sharp features seeming to only deepen as he glared at me. He unceremoniously took off, running at me, leaving heavy footprints in the dirt. The mischievous smirk slipped from my face as my heart jumped into my throat. I crouched the second he swung, easily ducking the blow and landing one of my own to his torso.

The force I put behind the hit jolted my snapped bone, and a shockwave of pain echoed through me. My knees gave way, and my eyes watered, but I bit my tongue and forced myself back to my feet. But my distraction cost me, as I spun around his claws caught my shoulder, bumping my broken arm further. Most of my shirt went with his hand, ripping off my skin like it was nothing, leaving me in nothing but the tatters of what was once a decent piece of clothing, a group of gruesome gashes revealed running down my collarbone.

With a furious roar I slammed my foot into his junk. He grunted but seemed otherwise unaffected – probably a eunuch – stepping aside, making me over-swing with my next punch, sending my tripping. I hissed from my new position on the ground, swinging my leg out and taking his feet out from under him. He groaned as he hit the forest floor, but I knew I couldn't hang around and fight. I wouldn't be at the top of my game until my arm healed.

So I tried to do what I did best: run away.

I felt sluggish and heavy, and before I'd even stepped three feet from my opponent, his hand grasped at my leg, bringing me back down beside him. As I landed on my broken arm I yelped in pain but powered through, swinging around to glare defiantly at him.

All I saw was a flash of glowing red before there was a searing pain in my side. I threw my head back, an agonised scream ripping from my throat, an aching pain crawling up my chest and down my arms.

After a long moment that lasted entirely too long, he stopped. Not because he had a change of heart, but because Damon appeared out of nowhere and slammed his knee into the mutt's face, sending him collapsing back into the mud.

I gasped for air, it felt like acid pouring into my lungs. I crumpled to the ground, head lulling back in pain.

I stared dazedly up at the slowly brightening sky, absent mindedly noticing how beautiful the splashes of pink, purple and peach were, only barely registering the searing pain in my torso.

"Juliet?" a familiar sultry voice asked, and my fuzzy vision slowly focusing on a worried looking Damon, crouching over me, blue eyes concerned. "It's going to be okay."

"What?" I asked confusedly, the words feeling wrong in my mouth. What was wrong?

It was like I was experiencing everything from underwater, or like it was all from a dream. Damon's mouth continued to move, and I noticed a phone pressed to his ear. Who the hell would he be calling at this time of day?

After a long minute Damon hung up the phone, gently prodding the source of the agony and I felt a wave of nausea sweep up my throat.

"Up," I demanded weakly, and, clearly knowing arguing would be pointless, he braced a hand behind my back, propping me into a half-sitting position. Taking an deep – and unnecessary breath, I glanced down at the wound.

A large, gruesome bite mark was set into my otherwise perfect skin, blood trickling down my waist and onto my jeans. A sickening feeling of something like grief crawled through me, and my eyes watered. I'd promised Stiles; I'd promised and I'd let him down. Again.

I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped dead when I felt the familiar warmth of the healing process. I stared down, watching in shock as the wound closed itself up.

"I thought-" I began confusedly, hope appearing in my tone as I glanced up at the sky, where I could only just see the tip of the moon over the trees. "But you said-"

My hope was squashed instantly as Damon stared down at me with pure pity, a rare expression for the eldest Salvatore. "This is how it starts," he told me quietly, pushing himself to his feet and holding out a hand to me. I took the help, allowing him to pull me upright. I winced as the gashes on my shoulder stung with the movement. In a show on uncharacteristic kindness, he ignored the way my bottom lip was trembling.

So this was it.

This was how I died.

"What will happen next?" I asked shakily, clenching my jaw to stop it from quivering.

Shaking off his own sympathy, the usual apathetic stare melted over his handsome face, appearing to all the world, careless. "It'll be a lot like a human flu," he began, listing off the points on his fingers. "Then you'll hallucinate, and eventually you'll rabid. We'll have to put you down like a dog – awfully ironic, isn't it?"

I swallowed another mouthful of bile, feeling my fingers tremble embarrassingly. "How long?" I asked, glad he didn't bring up the way my voice cracked.

"It's different for everyone," he shrugged. "Could be a day or two. Probably won't be any more than three."

I breathed in, savouring the smell of the summer air. "And there's no cure?"

He hesitated. "Not one you'll like."

Hope once again filled me. "I doubt there's anything I wouldn't do to save my own life," I told him with wide eyes.

"Klaus."

And just like that, the hope was gone again. "Klaus?" I asked weakly, biting my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

"More specifically, his blood."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Not his exact location. And I have a feeling it would take longer than three days to find him."

I sighed, pressing my fingertips to my temples. "Even if we could find him, I doubt he'd help me," I told him. I heard the familiar hum of an engine in the distance, and my heart dropped into my stomach. I bit my lip, ignoring the way my eyes began to water.

"What are you going to tell him?" Damon asked, clearly referring to the kid less than a mile away, on a path directly to us.

"That I need to leave," I choked, sniffling lightly and staring resolutely up at the soft colours of the sunrise. "That I won't be coming back."

My old friend shook his head, but I couldn't find it in me to look away from the sky. "That's the wrong decision."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, I made the same mistake; I didn't tell the person I..._care_ about that I had the bite until the last few hours," he told me quietly as I listened to Stiles' jeep edge closer to our location.

"If I'm going to take relationship advice from anyone, it's not going to be Damon 'I can only fall in love with people my brother loves first' Salvatore."

He looked affronted. "Well at least your sense of humour's still intact," he muttered bitterly. "And I'll have you know that _I _met Elena _first_."

"Very mature," I scoffed. Headlights flashed into the small clearing, and the jeep rolled out from the shadows, a stressed looking Stiles inside.

"Even though it's probably a lost cause, I'm going to see if I can't pull a few strings to get an audience with _'his majesty',_" Damon sneered as Stiles parked haphazardly in the dirt, bursting from the driver's seat and tripping over himself in his haste. "Call me if you're still alive in twenty-four hours."

Without further fanfare he slipped into the shadows, disappearing instantly as Stiles stumbled towards me, squinting through the cool morning mist.

"You're okay?" he asked as he came to a clumsy stop in front of me, fingers curling around my arms as he looked me up and down, assessing the damage. He eyed the bloody claw marks on my collarbone, turning a little green at the visible bone, but otherwise seemed satisfied that I was alive. "Damon said you'd been hurt."

"Flesh wounds," I waved his concern off. He exhaled in obvious relief, shoulders sagging like a weight had been lifted. His finally noticed the wolf bleeding out to our left, and the unconscious one on our other side. "Come on," I prompted, threading our fingers together and bringing his attention back to me. "You haven't slept in days."

With a reluctant sigh he nodded, eyeing the bodies one more time before allowing me to gently tug him back to the Jeep.

He was quiet as we began to lengthy trip back through the forest, heading onto the main road. I couldn't take the silence. These were probably my last minutes with Stiles, I wasn't going to waste them in silence. "Talk to me," I begged him.

"Scott and the others are safe," he told me once we were on the road, one hand tangled with mine, the other resting lazily on the wheel. "They're wounded, but they'll heal quickly."

"Not about that," I shook my head, capturing his hand in both of mine, bringing it to my lips so I could gently brush his knuckles. "About something else. _Anything _else."

He thought for a moment, alternating between staring at me and the road. Finally he spoke, and once he started, it was like he couldn't stop. He so often seemed to only want to talk about me; said I was more interesting than he could ever hope to be. I disagreed, of course, but if he enjoyed hearing about me then who was I to deny him?

Now, it was nice to hear him ramble on about himself for a change. He told me about how his favourite time of day had always been the sunrise, but that he rarely ever woke up early enough to see it. He told me about his David Bowie obsession growing up, and how the only movie he would watch when he was 8 had been _Labyrinth_.He laughed as he admitted he knew all the words to every _Blink-182_ song, and how though he loved _Green Day_, they'd never really compare.

He mumbled about how his favourite story to be read at bedtime had been _Pinocchio, _and how he thought that was how he'd come to be so good at lying, and how he'd always secretly thought of Scott as his own personal _Jiminy Cricket_.

He smirked while telling me that his favourite show was something called _Criminal Minds_, and promised me I'd love it, vowing that he'd bring the first season over the next day so we could watch it. I felt a pang in the spot where my heart should have been, and I winced, hating that he was making plans he didn't know would never come to pass.

Finally, after a time that was too short, he pulled up outside my house, turning off the ignition and peering across at me in the early morning sunlight.

"You should go home, get some sleep," I told him gently, forcing myself to sound normal. He could never know it was a goodbye.

"I can't sleep here?" he asked disappointedly.

"I need along bubble bath and a pint of blood," I told him, only half lying. I honestly_ was_ doing those things, but under normal circumstances I would have wanted him to stay. "I have a feeling you _seriously _need some rest."

I leaned over the console, pressing my lips to his cheek. I stayed there for a moment longer than usual, enjoying the feeling of his two-day old stubble against my lips.

Finally I pulled away, shooting him a pained but gentle smile. "I'll probably pull a cliché and sleep all day," I lied, wincing as I fought the sudden and foreign urge to cough. "I'll call you in a day or so and we can have that marathon."

"Sounds perfect," he smiled tiredly.

I wanted to say more, the words were on the tip of my tongue. They wouldn't have been a lie, they would have been the most honest thing I'd said in 200 years, but I knew now wasn't the right time. I wondered if there would _ever_ be a right time.

Probably not.

"I tolerate you," I ultimately said, and the words didn't even feel inadequate.

Instead of smiling or rolling his eyes like I thought he would, he merely frowned at me, the worry not quite leaving his gaze. "I tolerate you," he said despite the look of concern on his face.

It was good enough for me. I shot him a final smile, cracking open the door and slipping from the car. Once it was shut behind me, I couldn't stop myself from coughing into my hand as I wandered up to my front door. As I turned the handle – having left it unlocked – I glanced down at my hand. In my palm were a few stray droplets of ruby red blood.

I glanced over my shoulder at Stiles, who was still watching me with concern.

"Bye Stiles," I whispered, even though I knew he wouldn't hear, slipping into the dark solace of my home and letting the door slam shut behind me.

**A/N: Hello beautiful readers. Could you guys tell me in a review or PM what kind of flashbacks with the Original family you want to see? I'll try and include all of your suggestions! **


	30. Devil's Backbone

_Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not_

_He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got_

_Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please_

_Don't take that sinner from me_

_Oh don't take that sinner from me_

Devil's Backbone – The Civil Wars

* * *

I don't know how long I stayed in the bath. The water had turned cold and the bubbles had long since disappeared. With a reluctant sigh I pushed myself from the water, taking the plug with me and watching apathetically as it drained, swirling enchantingly.

I brushed my hair next, because it always made me feel better. It reminded me of when my mother would sit and brush my hair for me, running it through the strands no less than 100 times before she'd gently braid it and tie it up with ribbons.

Next I had a glass full of blood, enjoying the way it tasted on my tongue and the way my body hummed with energy as I digested it. I stood out in the sunlight of my backyard until the coughing became too much and I had to go sit down. I shut all my curtains and locked my doors, regretfully blocking out all the sunlight; it was beginning to give me a headache.

A side effect of the bite seemed to be the loss of ability to tell how much time had passed. Either that or I was blacking out, because I seemed to blink and the angle of the minute hand had changed degrees. For the first time in two centuries I felt cold, and I moved forwards, starting a fire in the middle of summer, not caring how odd it may have looked. My hands were shaky as I picked up an old throw from the back of the couch, wrapping it around my trembling shoulders and sitting as comfortably as I could on the ground in front of the fire.

Grabbing a cigarette from the table behind me, I lit it in the fire, holding it to my lips and inhaling deeply.

"_We missed you at the feast last night," Klaus said from behind me, I spun around, dropping whatever was in my hand and crossing my arms, smirking at him, a droplet of blood rolling down my chin._

"_Kol and I were having one of our own," I told him with a cheshire cat smile, gesturing lazily to the bodies littering the floor, pools of blood at my feet._

_Klaus smirked devilishly. "Should I be jealous?"_

_I raised an eyebrow. "Should _I_?" I asked, head tilting in false innocence. I pointed to the pink smeared on his upper lip. "I didn't know you liked that colour of lipstick." _

_He made no move to wipe off the mark, irritating me, not that I would admit it. Instead he shrugged, moving over to the bar in the corner, carelessly stepping over the corpse of the local baker to get to his drinks, pouring a glass of whiskey without bothering to offer me any._

"_What do you think of Nebraska?" he asked conversationally, swirling the amber liquid in his glass._

"_Does it matter?" I asked sourly._

"_No, I suppose it doesn't," he mused, cocking his head at me thoughtfully then smirking widely. "We're leaving as soon as the sun sets."_

"_I'll gather my things," I nodded acceptingly, and he reached out, grasping my hand and pulling me to a stop before I could go far._

"_Now, now," he tutted, putting his half-empty glass on the shelf. "No need to rush off. One would think you aren't happy to see me."_

"_Lots of people are happy to see you, Klaus," I retorted._

_He laughed cockily. "Don't pretend you're not one of them."_

_I squared my shoulders, shooting him a haughty look. The Original smirked. "I've better ways to spend my days," I told him with a contemptuous sneer. _

"_Oh?" he asked, voice layered with false interest._

_I hesitated, a sudden need to please him filling me, one of the only feelings able to make it passed the emotionless, blood-craved haze. "I suppose I could spare you a few minutes of my time," I told him coyly, and as a pleased smirked spread across his face, I felt pride in having achieved my goal._

_We met in the middle, his arms grasping roughly at my waist as he tugged me to him, pressing his lips to mine, his stubble scratching against the soft skin around my mouth. I moaned into the kiss, his tongue meeting mine instantly, curling around it with all the flexibility of a snake. _

_His strong hands slid down over my ass and onto my thighs, gripping them tightly and using the leverage to grind us together._

I blinked and suddenly I was alone in my living room, not in 1834 with Klaus. I was breathing heavily, so I took a deep breath, cringing when a serious of rough, painful coughs travelled up my throat, blood dribbling down my lip, leaving a bed taste on my tongue in the way only my own blood ever did.

I blinked at the dark room, my curtains blocking out every bit of sunlight, making things blissfully dreary. It was necessary however, because even the firelight made my head ache.

I moaned in pain, stepping forwards and crouching down in front of the fire, closing my eyes and enjoying the heat on my face as I fought back coughs, my hands actually shaking.

"_You couldn't restrain yourself?" Rebekah asked me, and I spun around, looking up at her where she stood in a gorgeous blue dress, a pearl necklace hanging at her collarbone. "Not even for the sake of our dining table?"_

_I smirked deviously at the broken table, items of clothing strewn across the hardwood floor, and she rolled her eyes, brushing her blonde hair off her pretty face. _

"_You embarrass me," she sneered distastefully, only fuelling my amusement. _

"_And you embarrass me, but I'm kind enough not to say anything," I retorted shrewdly. _

_She snorted indelicately. "You? _Kind?_ That's funny, you should tell jokes more often, Juliet." I sneered right back at her, though the action held no real malice. "My brother says we're leaving tonight," she began conversationally, the tiff instantly forgotten as I stood to my feet, adjusting my corset so it properly covered me and moving around to collect the discarded clothing._

"_Sad to leave?" _

"_No more than you or Kol," she shrugged, running her hands down the sky blue material of her dress._

_She had a point, I couldn't have cared less where we went. I was with Klaus, and his family, and that was really all I needed. That and humans to terrorise. "I asked to go to France next, but he couldn't be swayed. Something about rumours of Katerina in Alaska."_

"_His obsession with the doppelganger will kill him one day," she tutted, leaning against the stone wall, guiltlessly watching me do all the work. I hummed a vague agreement, picking up the last sock and putting it into the cane basket in the corner, preparing to pack it all away, ready to leave the state. "I don't know what you see in him, you know."_

_I looked up at her, tilting my head thoughtfully. "Lots of things, I suppose," I shrugged ambiguously. _

"_Like?" she prompted. I wasn't very good at the whole 'gossip' thing, but I felt obligated to tell her my secrets. Who else was I going to talk to? Klaus? Ha._

"_He's handsome," I revealed with a small smile. "And strong; powerful and admirable. He's ruthless and brutal and cold-blooded, even more so than myself. He's cutthroat, and ferocious. Devious and intelligent."_

"_Oh yes," she responded sarcastically. "You really just described Prince Charming."_

"_Maybe he's not to you," I hummed indifferently. "But you also found that homeless man in Upper East New York attractive. So I'd say we can't exactly depend on your judgement on the matter."_

_Rebekah looked affronted, but chose to take the higher road and not acknowledge my dig. "I'm torn between telling you that you could do better and that he's the best you'll ever get," she mused, picking up a lock of blonde hair and absentmindedly admiring the ends. At my contemplative silence, she looked up, staring at me thoughtfully. "You'll never be enough for him, you know?"_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_He'll always want more than just you," she elaborated. "You'll never satisfy him entirely."_

"_I _satisfy _him just _fine,_" I snapped, unable to help myself as my hands balled into tight fists at my sides. _

_Rebekah hummed, shooting me a condescending glance. I was stubborn, unwilling to admit there was any validity to her claim; unwilling to acknowledge that, deep down inside, I knew she was correct._

"_Satisfy who, darling?" Klaus asked, appearing in the room with a wide smirk on his pale lips._

"_You, of course," I responded shamelessly. _

"_And that right there is my cue to leave," the Original sister spat, shooting her brother a disgusted glance that he merely took in stride._

"_I thought my ears were burning," Klaus smirked deviously. _

"Well you would-" I cut myself off, realising I was alone in the room, the heat of the fire warming up my back. "Klaus?" I called, wondering how I could have missed them leaving the room. "Rebekah?"

I frowned suddenly, realising I didn't recognise the room I was in. There were unfamiliar photographs lining the walls of the sitting room, and looking down, I realised I was dressed oddly.

Strange garments I didn't recognise clung to my form. A pair of soft, cotton _trousers_ sat on my hips, and some kind of strange tunic top embraced my upper body. I tugged at the unusual fabric, frowning in confusion as I tried to remember putting it on.

Something was seriously, acutely, grievously wrong.

My first instinct was to call Stiles.

_Stiles._

I suddenly remembered everything and entirely ridiculous for having forgotten any of it at all. It wasn't 1834, it was 2011 and I was in Beacon Hills. Instantly I was confused about another thing. Why was I forgetting the date at all?

I turned around, intent on answers when a sharp aching sting at my side caught my attention. Being a vampire, I didn't tend to feel much pain unless something supernatural was the cause; that or wooden weapons. With a concerned frown, I reached down and pulled up the hem of my loose sweater.

My exhale was sharp as I stared down at the gruesome, infected werewolf bite on my skin. I swallowed thickly, grimacing at the foul smell it was emitting. With a scowl I dropped the material, covering the wound and almost managing to forget about it.

I realised I felt cold again, something I would have to get used to after 200 years of feeling nothing but room-temperature. Sitting in front of the fire, I briefly toyed with the idea of taking my ring off and standing out in the sun. It would be quick and easy, and probably far less painful – emotionally more so than physically.

I cut off the nagging notion before it could grow into anything more. Of course I wasn't going to commit suicide. I was nothing if not stubborn, and the thought of not fighting until the last possible second left me with a hollow ache in my chest.

"_I do believe I told you to wear the green dress," Klaus said from the doorway, and I turned to face him, raising a single eyebrow as I looked from he to his youngest brother._

"_Good evening darling," Kol chirped, sliding up beside me and pressing a cheeky kiss to my temple in greeting. "I, personally, think you look ravishing in red."_

"_Yes, well I neither asked for, nor want, your opinion," I snapped back, levelling the messy haired Original a nasty glare._

"_Ouch," he hissed mockingly, pressing a hand to his unbeating heart. "What ever did I do to deserve words so harsh?"_

"_You're a nuisance," I replied simply, shooting him a haughty expression._

"_In what regard?"_

"_You told Rebekah about the young man on Oak Lane," I pouted dramatically. "The one I was saving for a special occasion."_

"_The one you said smelt like freshly cut grass?" he asked, squinting as he thought._

_I slapped him on the shoulder with enough strength to knock it out of place, but, being an Original, it did nothing, I might as well have tried to throw a piece of parchment at him with all the affect it had. "You know exactly which one I meant," I snarled, spinning around, my red dress fanning out around me as I turned to walk back to Klaus. "Rebekah got mad that I borrowed her lipstick without asking and had him before I had the chance."_

"_Well then I suppose it's a good thing we got another one," Klaus smirked as I slid to his side, glancing over his shoulder pointedly. _

_I breathed in, instantly perking up as the delicious scent of newly baked bread wafted over me. "You brought me a present?" I asked excitedly, pushing myself to my tip toes so I could peer of the elder brother's shoulder._

_I grinned as I caught sight of a young boy, no more than fifteen, walking dazedly through the hall, stepping out into the drawing room with glazed brown eyes. _

"_Can I?" I asked Klaus eagerly, and he leaned back against the wall, reaching up to click his fingers lazily._

_The kid blinked, attention returning to the room as he suddenly looked around in fear, not recognising his surroundings. "Where am I?" he asked with a frown, his heartbeat picking up, pumping with delicious, wet thumps. _

"_Hello," I sang, folding my hands behind my back and blinking at him innocently. His heart rate spiked and he swallowed, eyeing the corset that clung to my torso, accentuating every inch of my perfectly proportioned, vampiric figure. "I'm called Juliet," I told him, smiling virtuously as I met his eyes, giving only a slight push, forcing him to remain calm. "What's your name?"_

"_Henry," he muttered, sweat breaking out across his brow._

"_Henry," I cooed softly, and red spread over his cheeks. I took a step forwards, leaning into the boy and sniffing delicately, taking in his divine scent. "Tell me Henry," I mumbled into his ear, all but hypnotised by the movement of the blood underneath his translucent skin. "Have you ever kissed a girl?"_

_His hands were shaking, I noted absently, a pleased smirk spreading across my red painted lips._

"_No Miss," he responded in a quivering voice._

_I hummed, brushing my nose along his jugular softly. "That's a shame," I whispered to him, my hands going unnoticed as they slid up his arms, my fingers curling around his shoulders. "It's a tragedy that you have to die without experiencing it once."_

"_Miss?"_

_I leaned back, letting him see my face; the face that haunted so many's nightmares. He gasped and flinched back, but I wasn't in the mood for games. I clamped down, holding him in place with such effort it was like holding a couple of grapes. I beamed at him and he whimpered, catching sight of the sharp fangs poking from my lips. _

_Without further fanfare I slammed forwards, burrowing my fangs in the supple skin on his neck, right in the jugular. Blood that was a little on the sweet side pooled in my mouth, and it was pure ecstasy. I moaned into his skin as he gave a pained gurgle. I drank deeply, thoroughly enjoying my meal, feeling absolute euphoria as my body hummed with power and energy. _

_I was still relatively young (compared to the Original Family, at least), and still hadn't quite gotten the hang of stopping in time to save the poor soul. On this occasion, however, I had no intention of allowing him to survive._

_So with little regret, I sucked every last drop of the blood from him, until his skin was cool to the touch. When his body emptied, I let go and he crumpled to the floor in a heap, limp and lifeless. I grinned._

_What bliss._

I was yanked back to reality as a painful flare ripped at my wound, the infected flesh practically bubbling as it got worse. As I felt bile travel up my throat, I turned to race to the kitchen sink, grimacing when I could go no faster than a human jog, ending up spitting the sick out into the metal sink, coughing up blood as I did so.

A piercing noise sent a sharp ache through my skull, but I reached out and answered the phone anyway, sighing in relief when the terrible music stopped. "What?" I asked the caller sharply, my voice not much more than a dull croak.

"How close are you to death?" Damon asked me lightheartedly, and I could hear a car engine in the background.

"Trick question asshole," I snapped hoarsely. "I'm already there."

"That's no way to speak to the vampire that's gonna save your life," he chimed back, and I frowned. My silence was clearly an invitation to continue, and he did so with an eye roll I could practically _hear_ through the connection. "Look, I've got a lead. It shouldn't take more than twelve hours to pan out, then another six to put into action. Can you hang on eighteen hours longer?"

"I'll do my very best," I responded sourly.

He was quiet a moment, and as the silence stretched out, I glanced out the window. The sky was dark. But that couldn't be right, it was midday only twenty minutes ago. "Has the dementia set in yet?" Damon asked, practically reading my mind. I was quiet. "The flashbacks?" Again, I couldn't find it in me to reply, so I just grit my teeth, but that was answer enough. "Look, just do everything you can to stay in the house. Fuck knows what damage you'll cause out on the streets. And stay away from that 'pack' of yours, it won't be long until you go rabid. Then who knows _who_ you'll butcher given the chance. And also, try not to kill yourself before I get there. The temptation will be overwhelming, but just push that cute little ass to stay alive, understand?"

"Stay inside, don't talk to my werewolf or human buddies, don't commit suicide," I repeated with a scowl. "I think I've got it."

Not in the mood to hear any more, I ended the phone call, resisting the urge to throw my cell across the room. With a grimace I turned the tap on, washing the blood and vomit in the sink down the drain.

"_I'm thinking of taking the blue one," Rebekah said, and I looked away from the wall, staring at the blonde blankly. "Well?" she prompted me, gesturing to the bite-covered women modelling for her._

"_It's nice."_

"_That's what you said about the last four," she complained with a pout._

"_Because that's what they _were_," I retorted snidely._

"_I don't appreciate the attitude, Juliet."_

"_Then go ask Margaret _her_ opinion on dresses."_

"_Little miss 'Vampires are filth compared to witches', wouldn't know what good taste was if it slapped her in the face," she grumbled._

"_Which, if I recall correctly, you did on several occasions."_

"_If you're going to be like that, you can go home and Klaus or Elijah can deal with you," she sniped._

"_Finally," I huffed, pushing myself from the small couch in the seamstress store, shooting the blonde a sour look. "A good idea from the Original sister."_

"_Don't come back crying to me when no one else wants to put up with you," she sniffed._

"_Yeah, _that's_ going to happen."_

_I shoved my way out the door, stepping out into the sun, wincing as it sent a stab of pain through my skull. I sighed, running a hand down the material of my soft green dress, smoothing out the creases. _

_Now that I was away from Rebekah, I felt like I could relax; I didn't have to be on my guard. The tension melted from my shoulders, my naturally cool skin warming in the rays of the sun. I wandered forwards, stepping around a tall man in a coat, my small heels clicking on the stone._

_I glanced over my shoulder, peering inside the spacious shop, watching absently as Rebekah forced her compelled models to spin, showing off the ripples in the fabric. I frowned, wondering if there was more to life than blood, wine and sex._

_There was for mortals, I supposed. But_ I_ wasn't human. And I never would be._

_I sighed, turning on the spot and striding down the street, determined not to focus on such depressing thoughts._

A nearby clock chimed loudly, sending stabs of pain through my head. I winced, collapsing to the floor and shoving my head between my knees as I fought off the severe nausea.

"_Juliet."_

_I glanced over my shoulder, frowning at Elijah, who stood with a glass of wine in his hand, blood dripping down his front, staining his once pure white tunic. "Yes?" I asked restrainedly, inclining my head with respect. _

"_I've heard whispers," he muttered, taking a step closer, boots making no noise on the cobblestone floor of the alleyway. "That you wish to leave us."_

_I wasn't sure how to respond. What did he want me to say? Admit it was true? How would he react then? Looking up into his dark brown eyes, I knew lying wasn't an option. I revered him too much. We were the same, he and I. Both restrained, but holding so much fury and chaos just below the surface._

"_You've heard correctly," I confirmed cautiously._

_His pale lips tightened as he frowned, clearly not pleased with my admission. He was silent for a long time, saying nothing as he sipped his drink and thought. I wasn't sure how he'd ultimately react. All I could do was watch him vigilantly, looking for any hint, any sign he was going to lash out. I knew, rationally, that he wouldn't. _

_Elijah understood me in a way no other member of his family did; including Klaus. I believed it was our shared love of knowledge that bonded us together, we loved to learn in a way no other of his siblings could._

"_Where will you go?" he eventually asked me, voice layered with control._

_It was a question I'd been asking myself for decades. The Original family was all I knew, how was I supposed to go about daily life without them? "London," I answered, chin tilting up proudly, showing I was confident in my decision. "I've been thinking of tracking down my descendants," I continued when he gestured for me to do so. _

"_Yes," he mused, casually striding over to the window and taking another sip of wine as he stared out into the orange sky of the setting sun. "Your human sister's offspring. I can imagine why you'd want to; spending so much time with my family must make you crave your own."_

_And there it was._

_I wasn't _really_ one of them and I never would be. I was nothing more than part of their entourage. Sure, I was as close to them as any vampire could ever be. I worked with them, laughed with them, even slaughtered with them, but even that didn't make me family._

"_What are you going to do when you find them?" he asked pleasantly, still gazing out over the orchard, the red leaves shedding from the branches as autumn passed us by._

"_I don't know," I replied honestly, wandering over to the liquor table and pouring myself some of my favourite aged scotch. "Pretend to be human, I suppose. Tell them I'm a distant relative. I'll come up with something."_

"_You're not planning on giving up your fangs, are you?" he asked with an uncharacteristic sneer. That was an expression we used when speaking of a vampire choosing to live off animal blood, a decision we mocked more often than not._

"_Don't be ridiculous," I snorted, sipping my drink with an amused smirk at the thought. "I'll be as savage and lethal as ever, so don't worry your handsome little head about that."_

_He smirked back around the rim of his glass. "What will you do with yourself?" he questioned curiously, also having trouble picturing me outside of their life._

_I was reluctant to reply, but I knew if any of the family would understand, it would be Elijah. "I think I'll study."_

_His eyebrows arched in interest._

"_I haven't decided what yet," I mumbled thoughtfully, glancing down at the amber liquid in my glass, swirling it around absentmindedly. "Maybe nursing, or domestic science."_

_Elijah scoffed, "Neither of which sound like anything you'd be able to put up with."_

_I grinned back wickedly. "You're right," I responded lightly. "Maybe I'll cut my hair to look like a man and compel my way into an engineering class, or astronomy, or perhaps even literature."_

"_That sounds more like you," he allowed with a rare smile. _

_It was silent for a long moment, each of us contemplating my words. "You could come with me," I suggested pathetically, knowing it was pointless. _

_He glanced sideways at me, lips quirking up slightly at my words. "My place is here," he said patiently. "With my family."_

_I nodded acceptingly. "I suppose I'm just scared to do this alone," I admitted with a rare vulnerability._

"_I'd be worried if you weren't."_

_I hummed back, draining the last of the scotch and placing the crystal glass back on the wooden table with a soft clink. _

I blinked my eyes open, my vision fuzzy at first, but slowly clearing up until I could see with usual clarity.

Where was I?

I was in a town, surrounded by cars and people on their bikes. How did I get here? I didn't remember leaving the house. And it was daytime again. How much time had passed this time?

I took a breath in, muscles coiling as I inhaled the irresistible aroma of fresh blood pumping beneath thin skin. "Are you okay?" a voice I didn't recognise asked me, but I ignored it, clutching at the tiny sliver of humanity remaining in my full skull, turning and striding away on shaky legs, refusing to allow myself to break.

I stumbled for the first time in a long time as I stepped up the curb, desperate to get out of the sunlight that felt like fire on my skin. I slipped into the shadows, breathing a sigh of relief as I pressed my forehead against the cool bricks lining the alley.

"Hey!" the voice said again and my brow furrowed. Couldn't they tell I wanted to be left alone? "Miss, are you alright?"

A hand grasped my shoulder and tugged me around, and I met a pair of blue eyes, staring at me with concern. I could hear the wet thump of his heart, pumping glorious blood around his fragile body. Why was I resisting again?

A sharp pang of pain tore at my side and I hissed, gingerly touching my oozing wound. I glanced back up at the kid, hunger suddenly tearing through me, my gums aching awfully and my eyes flushing with blood.

Blood. That was what I needed. Human blood would heal me; get rid of the horrendous nausea.

A jumped on him, curling around him like a snake, slamming him into the wall and sinking my extended fangs into the delicate skin at his neck. I was messy as I drank, caring little for the blood missing my mouth and pouring down my chin. I licked at the wound, groaning tiredly as the blood only served to make me feel gluggy and sluggish.

The body under my hands dropped lifelessly to the concrete and I gagged as another wave of nausea swept through me. I managed to keep my meal down, but I felt dizzy and unbalanced, having to reach out to grasp the wall to make sure I didn't fall over.

A loud honking noise blasted through the alley, and I cringed, squeezing my eyes shut tightly as I tried to block out the sounds. Why wasn't the blood working?

"_Juliet."_

_I looked over my shoulder, eyes falling on Klaus as he stood in the doorway, watching as I packed the few belongings I had into a small suitcase. "Klaus," I responded respectfully, turning back to the task at hand, swallowing thickly as I processed his expression. He looked angry._

"_Where exactly do you think you're going?" he asked with an eery calm, and if my heart could beat it would break my chest._

"_London, maybe," I told him honestly, knowing lying would be a fatal mistake. "I miss the United Kingdom."_

"_You didn't ask if you could leave me."_

_I sighed, clenching my teeth together tightly but decided not to go into _that_ one. "I'm not _leaving_ you, Klaus. I'm going away, I never said I wouldn't be back." _

_He was quiet, but the silence was thick and heavy. "It matters not," he replied flippantly, but I could still hear the steel in his tone. "You're not exactly one of a kind. You're easily replaceable."_

_I knew he was taking cheap shots in an attempt to hurt me, and I was embarrassed that it was working. "Well then why are you here? Surely not to see someone so _invaluable _off."_

"_Merely checking on my investment," he hummed casually. _

_I raised an eyebrow, shutting my case and turning to face him. "Since when am I an _investment_?" _

"_Since you drank my blood and begged me to snap your neck."_

_Did he have to be so crass? "Say what you will, Klaus," I huffed, crossing my arms and levelling him with a serious look. "Nothing you say will change my mind about going."_

_He looked like he wanted to argue, and for a moment I was terrified. Over the many decades I'd spent in Klaus' entourage, I'd become somewhat desensitised to him. Sometimes, however, his eyes would glint in such a vicious and animalistic way that I'd remember what it was like to fear him. And _God_ did I fear him._

"_I'll know where you go of course," he told me darkly, a displeased frown still on his lips._

"_Yes, yes," I muttered with an eye roll. "You have eyes everywhere, you can always find me wherever I am, blah, blah, blah." _

_His lip curled at me, but he made no other move to berate me. "When I come knocking, I expect your full cooperation," he warned me, which was merely a fancy euphemism for 'don't complain when I come looking for sex and/or your startling aptitude for torture'._

"_Of course," I nodded seriously, knowing that I didn't really have a choice._

_Once under Klaus' thumb, always under Klaus' thumb. In his mind I owed him, in his mind I belonged to him. He wasn't delusional. I always had. And I always would._

**_A/N: Hope you guys are satisfied with this one, it wasn't easy to get out. Let me know your thoughts in a comment, and season 3A will be starting very soon indeed._**


	31. My Understandings

_I don't mind it, I don't mind if you're overrated_

_Or if you're staring at the edge of the world._

_Keep in mind that I'm a sore eye with blurry vision._

_But I can see it has to be you love, that I've been dreaming of._

_And if we climb this high, I swear we'll never die._

My Understandings – Of Mice &amp; Men

* * *

A piercing scream rang through the alley as a young adult woman stumbled across the bloodless body crumpled against the bricks. Instinct to protect the secret kicked in before anything else and in the next second I'd yanked her into the shadows, my hand pressed tightly to her lips.

I wanted to stop. I knew I had to stop. But the need for blood was stronger than my will.

"I'm sorry," I managed to tell the poor girl as she stared up at me in pure fear. She took her last breath as I ripped her throat open, blood spraying from the carotid artery, only half of it finding it's way into my mouth.

In the next moment I was being forcefully ripped away from my meal, thrown against the bricks behind us and yelled at.

The words didn't even sound english. They were just sounds put together in a jumble. I snarled at the fuzzy shape of a person, reaching out to shove them away from me.

"Juliet!"

That was my name, wasn't it?

I whirled around to face the newcomer only to have the person in front of me step out protectively, shouting something at the person I identified as blissfully human. Everything was still blurry, and sounded like I was underwater, but I managed to lock my gaze onto a pair of honey brown eyes that looked achingly familiar. They were wide with fear, and my eyes slid over the person's cheeks, which were deathly pale and covered in freckles.

Instantly I knew, whoever it was, I had to protect them.

Then I smelt the blood.

It was breathtaking, just the mere scent of it was enough to make my body hum with energy. That's what I needed. That's what would heal me.

I surged forwards, intent on sinking my fangs into the figure's neck. A pair of arms as strong as steel wrapped around my middle, holding me back. I screeched in pain as the arms brushed my oozing wound, thrashing desperately, trying to get out of their hold. A hand pressed over my lips to contain the noises I was making, and I instantly bit down on the fingers at the seam of my mouth, blood I could identify as vampire's pooling on my tongue.

"Fuck sake, Juliet!" a voice growled when the back of my head connected with their nose and they ripped their torn hand away from my mouth. Satisfaction curled in my gut and I thrashed even harder. Fingers found their way to the bite mark on my side, and they dug in. I howled again in agony, the pain licking at me like flames. "Hey!" they snapped loudly and suddenly I was thrown to the ground, my head colliding with the cement making my vision go white for a long moment. "Stay back!" the voice growled to the human warningly before turning back to me. "Fucking hell, Adams. Biting isn't nice."

I knew that voice.

"Damon?" I asked dazedly, my vision clearing once more, the heavy fog in my mind slowly lifting, allowing me to think rationally for the first time in far too long.

"Welcome back to the land of the rational," the eldest Salvatore chimed sarcastically, still kneeling over me, bleeding hands held out ready to restrain me. "The clarity might not last long, so we need to get you back to your house without anyone seeing the blood. Don't worry about the bodies, I'll take care of them."

"Bodies?" I asked confusedly, eyes widening as I caught sight of the blood staining the front of my top. My tongue stuck out instinctually, licking at the blood smeared around my lips. "Oh God," I breathed, chest heavy with remorse. "Damon, what did I do?"

"That doesn't matter," he waved off my question, ignoring the way tears pooled in my eyes. He turned around, looking up at someone I couldn't see. "Stay back," he warned them, then looked back at me. "I need to move them out of sight, then I'll run you home, okay?"

He didn't wait for a reply, sliding to his feet and disappearing out of my line of sight. My hands were shaking. I frowned and tried to make them stop, but they only seemed to tremble more violently. "Jules?" a familiar voice said meekly, and I instantly shut my eyes against reality, wishing I was anywhere – _anywhere_ – but there at that moment. "Jules?" Stiles' voice was shaky, concerned and, sickeningly enough, afraid.

My eyes burned as I stared up at the blue sky, refusing to even attempt to meet his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and I did all I could to ignore the way his heart thudded wetly in his chest. He sounded terrified, and I felt even worse. I contemplated taking off my ring right then and crawling into the sunlight, but a hazy memory of a promise I made to Damon filled me mind, and I knew I couldn't do anything so ridiculous.

I _had_ to go out fighting.

"Please tell me you're okay."

I shut my eyes as a tear leaked out, trailing down my temple and hitting the concrete silently. "Stiles," I began with more of a croak than anything.

That seemed to break him, and a second later he was kneeled next to me, leaning over me to assess me. I wanted to tell him to get away, to run, but I was afraid to breathe in his scent, so I held my breath and stayed silent. "It's going to be okay, Jules," he promised me with a fierce determination.

My gums tingled and I clenched my teeth together, refusing to allow my fangs to slide free. Once I was sure I was under control, I spoke, taking care not to open my eyes. "I'm sorry," I told the kid sorrowfully, squeezing my eyes shut tightly.

"What?" he asked, sounding alarmed.

"Hey, kid!" Damon shouted from a distance away, "take a step back." Stiles said nothing, but I could imagine the bitch face he was sending the vampire. "Fine, but don't come complaining to me when you end up with a ripped out carotid," he snapped and I tried to pretend I couldn't hear the sound of him dragging a corpse across the rough ground, stashing it out of sight.

"Damon's got a plan," Stiles told me seriously, and I couldn't help but slip my eyes open slightly, catching the desperate look on his handsome face. "You're going to get through this."

I wanted to argue, tell him to get away, to stop having such pointless hope, but he merely took my hand. I choked back a cry when his skin met mine, his getting smeared with blood. I pulled away, refusing to let him be tainted further.

"Upsy-daisy," Damon cooed condescendingly as he appeared beside us, leaning down to hook an arm around my shoulders and knees before hoisting me up like I weighed nothing, cradling me in his arms like a child. "Meet back at the house," he told Stiles quickly, barely waiting for an agreement before he was running, faster than humans could properly see as he dodged cars and pedestrians, making a beeline for my home.

"Is it true?" I asked him once we'd stopped when I knew I wouldn't get bugs in my mouth.

"You'll have to specify," he grouched, sounding irritated by the vague question as he slipping into my house. I relaxed once the sun was off me, happy to be in the cool shade of my home.

"Stiles said you have a..." I paused, violently coughing up half the blood I'd just ingested. "A plan," I continued once it'd stopped, leaving Damon scowling down at his blood covered shoes. With a muttered cuss word he unceremoniously dropped me on the couch, caring very little that it sent a searing agony through my body. I bit my lip to hold in a scream, glaring up at him angrily.

Damon didn't reply straight away, sliding off his boots and moving into the kitchen to rinse them off before he came back and answered me. "I pulled all the strings I could," he told me quietly, holding out a damp washcloth and patting my sweat covered brow clean.

"And what strings were they?" I asked tiredly, closing my eyes and leaning my head back on the arm rest.

"After I couldn't find any sign of Klaus within a hundred miles, I called Elena, told her to call Stefan and leave a message. I can't be sure he'll get it in time – or get it at all, really – but it was the best I could do," he huffed, strong brows pulling together as he continued to pat my forehead. "What about you? Surely you have one of their numbers. You were with them for decades, you have to know how to contact at least one of them."

I shook my head, stopping instantly when it brought back the nausea. "I never found them," I admitted expressionlessly, eyes fluttering open to stare at the ceiling. "_They _always found_ me_."

Damon was quiet, thoughtful as he absently continued to dab. "You're going to be okay," he said after a long minute.

"Who're you trying to convince?" I asked drowsily, letting my eyes slide shut once more. He didn't respond, probably too proud. "Can you promise me something?"

"If I _have_ to," he huffed, sounding more irritated than he felt.

"When I go rabid again – if I put Stiles in danger – you'll put me down."

It was a hard request to make, but I knew it was necessary. Stiles was my priority now, and if he was at risk from anything, including myself, then the threat had to be eliminated. For a moment Damon looked reluctant to comply, but acceptance quickly clouded his icy blue gaze and he nodded compliantly.

I relaxed, glad I could at least control that. "Don't let Stiles see you do it, though," I warned him softly. "I don't want that to be the last way he remembers me." Damon grunted in acknowledgement of my words and I couldn't help a small smirk. "You're a good friend, Damon."

"Yeah, well don't go around telling people that," he grumbled. My smile widened, but beyond that I was too exhausted to reply. A minute of silence passed, then Damon said, "lover-boy is arriving."

I hadn't heard the jeep, which was a depressing thought. What next? I wouldn't be able to lift a car? How do the humans survive?

"Jules?" Stiles yelled as he tripped through the front door, and I _did_ hear him knock into the side table, the glass vase resting there dropping to the floor and shattering.

I opened my eyes as he stumbled into the room, a terrified and anxious expression on his lovely face. I tried to smile at him, hoping it didn't come across as fake as it really was. "Damon," I said quietly, eyes sliding to the vampire in question. "Go clean up the glass," I ordered him with a pointed look in Stiles' direction.

The raven-haired demon looked like he wanted to argue, but he wasn't _completely_ socially inept, and with a begrudged nod he slipped from the room, muttering to Stiles as he passed, something about not letting me near his neck or wrists. I tried to roll my eyes, but it just made me dizzy.

"Hi," he said, standing in the centre of the room, looking like he had no idea what to do with himself.

"Hello," I replied softly, blinking up at him, simultaneously asking him to come closer and stay as far away as he could get. He must not have understood that last part, because a minute later he was inching closer until he came to a stop next to me. After a brief moment of indecision he knelt down beside me.

Figuring I'd already gone so far, I held my hand out palm-up, and with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like relief he reached forwards, grabbing my hand with his own. His skin was slick and sweaty, but I couldn't have cared less, just happy to have contact with him.

"It's going to be okay, Stiles," I said gently, squeezing his hand to punctuate my words.

"Even if you die?"

It was a fair enough question, and even the words coming from his own mouth made his heart stutter. I was flattered he cared so much, I couldn't count the number of times I'd stared up at the stars and wished somebody would care like he did in that moment.

I figured that then was as good a time as any. I had to tell him something, leave him with _anything_, so that maybe he'd be able to move on smoothly once I was gone.

So with a deep sigh and a heavy heart, I soldiered on.

"I want you to do something for me," I told him quietly, biting my tongue to stop a pathetic whimper get past my lips.

"Anything," he vowed.

"I want you to talk to Lydia more," I said seriously, staring at the tip of his nose, unable to meet his honey gaze. "She'll love you once she gets to know you; it's impossible not to. And I want you to stay close with you dad. Family is more important than you know, and he won't always be around. Burn all my blood packets once I'm gone, just in case they raid the house. I'll have Damon forge my signature onto the correct documents and the house will be in your name by the end of the week. You can sell it, rent it out or move in later, whatever you want. Also, the hot water tap sticks in the bath, so-"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Stiles asked, and I blinked at him in surprise, not sure I could ever recall actually hearing him cuss before.

"Uh, leaving a verbal will?" I said with a frown. "I thought that was obvious."

He began breathing heavily out of nowhere, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he hyperventilated. His pupils blew up as his eyes watered, and his heart tripled it's pace in his chest.

I stared at my human in alarm. "Stiles?" I asked worriedly, clearing my throat to try and get rid of the croak.

"You're not going to die," he murmured distraughtly, pressing his lips together stubbornly.

I softened, trying to sit up but crying out in pain when it pulled at my swollen, oozing wound. I hissed, leaning my head back and holding my breath until the sharp sting of agony dulled. "I admire your optimism, but I think it's time to face reality-"

"You're _not_ going to die," he repeated with a snap, glaring down at me determinedly. "You're not allowed to. I forbid it."

I raised one eyebrow, staring up at him dubiously. "You _forbid_ it?" I questioned skeptically, but his expression never faltered. An amused smirk lit up my features momentarily, but quickly dimmed when I found I didn't have the energy to keep it up. I swallowed, only just noticing how very dry my mouth was; it felt like it was full of cotton. "You're sweet," I told him stiltedly, now smiling at him with my eyes more than my mouth. "But even you, as stubborn and obstinate as you are, can't cheat death. I would know, I've successfully done it once before."

"Well then do it again," he commanded furiously, refusing to allow his pretty eyes to water, determined not to show weakness.

"It doesn't work like that," I spoke gently, squeezing his hand as tightly as I could manage. "I've lived longer than any one person should," I murmured, watching him closely. He sniffed quietly, nostrils flaring as he fought back emotion. "Maybe it's just my time."

"I refuse to believe that," he growled with surprising force. "You've survived this long."

"Do you believe in heaven?"

Stiles looked taken aback by my left-field question, breath catching in his throat as he eyed me suspiciously. "What?"

"Heaven," I repeated gently, rubbing my thumb across the skin on the back of his hand. "Do you believe it exists?"

He seemed reluctant to answer, but after a long moment relented. "I don't believe it's possible that my mom can't be in a good place now," he admitted softly, honey brown eyes tearing up again, though no tears fell.

I smiled at my human boyfriend. "I think that's a very wise answer," I told him before a sudden, pained hiss passed through my lips as agony darted up my side, bile rising in my throat. I kept it down with a gulp, grimacing at the bad taste it left in my mouth.

"You're pale," Stiles murmured.

"Tell me something I don't know," I croaked in response.

His lips tipped up slightly, so I counted it as a win. "I mean more so than usual." We were quiet again, each in our own little worlds.

I pursed my lips, thoughts turning sour. "Then, do you believe in hell?" I sounded pathetically meek, but I didn't have the energy to care. His brow furrowed at me. "I mean, providing heaven exists, then shouldn't hell too? And since I'm damned anyway..."

"You're not damned," he bit out with a glare that lacked strength.

I couldn't help but smile. He was always so passionate in his good opinion of me. It was equal parts endearing and maddening. I decided to change the subject, knowing the common argument wasn't going to be resolved in the short amount of time we had.

I wanted to say more, but I felt like there weren't any words that could sufficiently convey what I was feeling. Still, I opened my mouth to say more, only for violent, hacking coughs to wrack my body, blood dribbling down my lower lip and dropping from the end of my chin.

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, but cut himself off, staring up over the couch, blinking at something in the archway. I groaned as I tilted my head, trying to see what he was looking at. "Damon?" I croaked confusedly, looking over his tense expression with fuzzy eyes.

"We have company," he said, and after a long, painstaking minute, my eyes adjust to see the newcomer in the room.

"Hello, love."

I froze, my emerald eyes wide as I took in the ancient vampire in front of me.

"Long time no see, eh?"

A tense fear that I'd ever only felt in the Original's presence seemed to swell within me, and I swallowed thickly, struggling to come to terms with the situation. I had to question whether this was real. I'd seen him so many times over the last few days, who was to say it wasn't another hallucination? Let's be real; why the hell would he come all this way for _me_?

"You're not really here," I said before I could stop myself, meeting his icy stare head on.

His pale lips quirked up, highlighting the stubble around them. "An interesting conclusion, sweetheart," Klaus said, hands folded politely behind his back, a dark waistcoat draped over his strong figure. I was reminded instantly of all the pet-names he used to call me. I'd never told him how I'd despised them. He seemed to enjoy it, and at the time, that was all that mattered. "However, unsurprisingly incorrect."

He was quiet, blue eyes assessing me, drinking me in after so many years apart. "Why did you come?" I asked throatily, teeth clicking together as my hands balled into fists, every cell in me aware of his presence.

"I was under the impression you needed something from me," he said, casually strolling around the couch so I didn't have to stare up at him, moving in front of the dying embers of the fire. I reached up and grabbed Stiles' hand, pulling him out of Klaus' reach weakly. "Something you couldn't get anywhere else."

"You were misinformed," I choked, blinking up at him with wet eyes. "I don't need _anything_ from you."

"Please!" All heads in the room turned to stare at Stiles, who'd ripped himself from my grasp to step closer to the Original. "Please, just-just give her your blood," he begged in a show of uncharacteristic vulnerability.

"No," I snapped, surprising even myself.

"Don't listen to her," Stiles blurted desperately. "She's not in her right state of mind."

Klaus' head tilted as his cold eyes slid over my tense and pained form, and Stiles' anxious body, heart hammering away in his chest.

"You're with one of _them_ now?" Klaus asked with a sneer. "And here I thought you had _standards_."

"I slept with _you_, didn't I?" I snapped back before I could stop myself. My blood seemed to freeze in my veins for a long moment as his icy gaze hardened a fraction. So quickly that I wasn't sure it'd happened at all, the look was gone, replaced with a dancing mirth.

"At the door of death and still as witty as ever," he responded with a leer that showed his teeth. "So, how about that cure?"

I'd made peace with the idea of my death, I didn't want all of that soul-searching, all of that heart wrenching coming-to-terms-with-death-and-probably-by-extension-hell process, to be for nothing. But, seriously, given the opportunity to stay with Stiles? There wasn't any doubt I was going to take it.

A stray thought made me pause an instant before I opened my mouth to tell him I wanted the cure. "What'll it cost?" I asked hesitantly, my voice embarrassingly hoarse. I bit my tongue and tasted blood.

Klaus smirked wickedly, in a way I used to (and to be honest, still kind of did) think was unendingly sexy. "I was thinking you could just – how do the young ones say it these days – owe me one?" he said in his lilting accent.

"Thanks, but I'd rather be dust than owe _you_ anything," I sneered right back, the action taking more effort than usual, considering how exhausted I was.

"She's kidding!" Stiles jumped in with an anxious laugh, and instinct told me Damon was rolling his eyes from his place in the doorway. Klaus paid him no mind, brushing him out of the way like he was an annoying insect, and crouching beside me where I lay on my couch.

I wanted to say no, to adamantly refuse the cure, more a matter of pride than anything. One look into Stiles' honey brown eyes and I knew it wasn't _really_ up to me. Stiles was worth anything, even a debt to the oldest and most powerful vampire in existence.

"So how're we doing this?" I asked, tilting my chin up in a tiny act of defiance.

Klaus smirked, clearly pleased. He gestured to where my arm lay uselessly at my side. "For old times' sake," he grinned darkly.

"No."

"What?" Stiles asked loudly, glaring down at me. Clearly he still hadn't made the connection.

"I won't do it," I growled, glaring boldly into Klaus' frosty eyes.

He shrugged indifferently. "Then you'll die," he hummed carelessly. "Before or after you go rabid and kill your little human pet, I can't say."

He just _had_ to pull the Stiles card. Over a century and he still knew me as well as I knew myself. I glanced up at Stiles. I'd tried to explain blood sharing to him before, such as when we did it only a short time ago. I knew he was trying to understand, but he wasn't a vampire, and until he was, he wouldn't know.

"I'm sorry," I told him sincerely, and his eyes shined with confusion. I looked away, unable to look at him while I committed an act of such betrayal. I glared at Klaus with something that didn't quite meet hate, but was pretty damn close. "This means _nothing_," I spat resolutely, but the older man did nothing but smirk.

With a grimace I held out my wrist and Klaus took it gently in his hands. I wanted to tell Stiles to look away, but I knew it would be pointless. The Original offered the unblemished skin of the inside of his wrist out to me, and as I smelt the blood within, I couldn't help the way my fangs slid free and the blood flooded my eyes, the whites flooding red and the irises turning black.

With a wince I tightened my grip on his hand, remembering what it had once felt like to have our skin brush, and sank my sharp fangs into the thin skin there. Blood instantly pooled in my mouth, and I couldn't resist a moan, especially when a second later his own set of fangs pierced my wrist, my blood being sucked from my body.

I hummed with pleasure, sucking deeper, desperate for every possible drop. It was better than any drug, any high that any human could ever get. I groaned, tongue slipping out to flick at the punctured skin. I could feel the substance healing my body in a way human blood hadn't done since I'd been bitten.

After an eternity that was, once again, entirely too short, the mouth stopped lapping at my wrist and the one I was latched onto was ripped away. I barred my teeth at Klaus for a long moment until clarity once again flooded me and I put away the teeth, licking my lips clean of the mouthwatering blood.

Klaus was smirking smugly, wiping at the blood on his own lower lip. I resisted the urge to call him a rather rude name, instead sneering at him and turning my attention to the ceiling as I felt my body begin to heal itself.

A minute passed and Klaus made no move to leave. "You can go now," I snapped at him childishly.

"You're _welcome_," he snarked back sarcastically, sounding predictably bitter for his old age.

"You can take my metaphorical thanks, and shove it right-"

"_Thank you._"

We all glanced to Stiles, who was standing in the centre of the room, staring sincerely at a bemused Klaus. "At least the pet has manners," he drawled, eyes sliding between the kid and I. My lip curled in displeasure, but I said nothing, content to merely glare daggers at the Original. "Well, despite all I've done for you people, I can tell when I'm not wanted," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet smoothly and dusting his hands off on his pants.

"Give my best to Elijah, Rebekah and Kol," I told him, only half-sarcastically.

"Well, two out of three aren't currently breathing, but if that changes any time soon I'll be sure to pass the message along," he responded coolly.

My eyebrows raised. "You _daggered_ your siblings?" I asked in anger, scowling up at him.

"Only the younger two," he waved me off.

"Rebekah will _not_ be pleased when she wakes up," I jeered him, my lips twitching up into a smirk as his own faltered.

"When Kol is up and about I'll be sure to send him your address," he said. "I can imagine he'll be pleased for an opportunity to reunite."

"Goodbye, Klaus," I responded shrewdly, with clear dismissal.

He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. "When I come knocking, I trust you'll be prepared to give me what I want, darling," he asked politely, merely a formality. There was no doubt I would be complying. "_Whatever _I want."

"Try not to kill anything on your way out of town," I shot back, refusing to bend to his will.

"Try not to get bitten by anymore werewolves," he retorted smartly. "I won't always come running, you know, love."

"Somehow I believe I'll manage," I responded coldly.

And with a villainous smirk, he was gone, the door banging against the wall with a loud _crack_.

We all relaxed, the overwhelming tension Klaus exuded disappearing along with him. "I should be heading off too," Damon said after a beat, stepping into the room smoothly.

"You're not staying?" I asked with a frown.

"I've gotta keep an eye on Stefan," he told me, crossing his arms over his broad chest and blinking down at me with those hypnotic eyes of his. "Who knows what kind of trouble my baby brother will get into without me on his shoulder."

"I'm sure he'll see sense eventually," I spoke in what I hoped was a comforting way.

"Once he comes back from the dark side, I'll have him call you and you two can chitchat about the pros and cons of interspecies dating," he grinned wolfishly. "I'm sure he'll have plenty of tips for when you finally pop this kid's cherry," he smirked, gesturing obviously to Stiles, who flushed from head to toe. His smirk only widened, and he moved to Stiles' side, clapping the human on the shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of camaraderie. "Be good to her, she's not a bad egg, she just has a habit of making bad decisions with men, a tradition I'm fairly confident she didn't continue with you."

Stiles' eyebrows pulled together. "But didn't she date _you_?" he asked confusedly.

Damon nodded acceptingly. "Case-in-point. I'm exhibit B," he told him casually, and I snorted quietly behind him. "The douche-canoe that just dined-and-dashed is exhibit A."

"You're sure you don't want to stay another day or so?" I asked once he'd left the kid sufficiently bemused, turning to face me once more. "Once I'm better I could take you out on the town, compel you a coed."

"You really know what to say to charm a guy," he rolled his eyes exasperatedly, and I grinned back cheekily. "I really do have to get going, I have things to be getting back to in Mystic Falls before I'm back on the road, hunting for Originals."

He reached down, pulling up my top without permission and peering at the gruesome bite mark that was slightly less puffy and infected looking than it was before.

"It should be totally healed in a day or so," he told me impudently, dropping the material and moving his hand to nudge my chin playfully. "You'll be back on your feet, wooing your human lover-boy and running with the local wolf pack before you know it." He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me with surprising softness in his gaze. "I'm glad you survived, Adams. And while I'm not usually one to agree with the Original-dickhead,_ do_ try not to get yourself bitten again."

"I'll do my very best," I nodded, and with a wide smirk, he too had disappeared, only this time the door clicked shut gently, no rude or inconsiderate banging to be heard.

Stiles and I were left in silence, I was waiting for his reaction, and he seemed to be deciding exactly _how_ to react. Finally, after a long time, he seemed to break, exhaling loudly and seeming to collapse at my side, burying his face in my neck and throwing both arms around me and squeezing me tightly, practically lifting me from the comfort of the lounge in his eagerness; but I was all too happy to go.

I wrapped my own arms back around him, letting my eyes slide shut as my hand slid up to his hair, which he'd begun to grow at my suggestion. I liked the new look, I realised, tugging at the hair and smiling when he exhaled against my skin.

"Hey," I cooed softly, beaming as he nuzzled me affectionately. "Everything's fine," I assured him.

"I'm still not totally convinced of that," he mumbled into me cutely. He sat up after a minute, blinking tiredly at me, dark circles under his eyes.

"How long's it been since you slept?" I asked him gently, brushing the dark skin carefully with my thumb.

He shrugged, reluctant to answer. "Since you were bitten, I guess," he admitted hesitantly.

"Well then, I guess it's a good thing that I could use some sleep too," I responded, and he smiled exhaustedly. In a move of surprising boldness, he pushed himself up and over me, collapsing into the gap between me and the back of my couch, wrapping an arm around my waist and once again ducking his head into my neck. "Comfortable?" I asked amusedly, wincing as I tried to turn but finding I wasn't completely healed. I knew it would take time, but I was already impatient.

Stiles hummed into my skin, clutching me tighter, even going so far as to throw a leg over mine, intertwining them together. He was like an adorable monkey, and I felt warmer than ever with him curled around me. He made me feel oddly safe, which was ironic, considering _I _was the one with the supernatural abilities.

Nonetheless I was elated to be where I was, and with a relaxing sigh I snuggled deeper into Stiles' hold, breathing in his scent, proud when I didn't feel even a flare of hunger.

It may have taken a few centuries to figure out, but I finally knew where I belonged.

**A/N: Okay, so I've got this serious obsession with Criminal Minds at the moment, and I'm pretty sure I'm gonna start a Reid/OC case!fic. Is that something you lovely people would be into? Anyway, hope you liked this one, especially the special guest appearance :)**


	32. Kiss Me Again

**A/N: Hello beautiful people. Someone mentioned in a review that I forgot Finn, but I just wanted to make it clear that, at this point in the story, Finn is daggered – and for those of you watching closely, Finn was daggered long before Juliet was ever even born, so she never met him, only heard stories – and therefore wasn't mentioned. **

**Enjoy this chapter of pure, unadulterated fluff (with some angst on the side).**

* * *

_I gotta say something I've been thinking about._

_I can't wait to lay around with you._

_And tell you all the secrets I've been keeping to myself._

_It's been awhile since I've felt butterflies._

_Do you feel the same way too?_

_If every single second could last that much longer._

_Would you hold me?_

Kiss Me Again – We Are The In Crowd

* * *

"That's not a word."

"Yes it is."

"In what language?"

"Uh, Spanish."

"You can't use other languages!" Stiles exclaimed furiously. "That's not how _Scrabble _works."

"You never specified that I had to play in English," I countered with a smirk.

His caramel eyes widened and his lips pulled together as he stared at me incredulously. "It's _implied_," he all but shouted at me, only serving to widen the smirk sitting comfortably on my lips.

"Do you want another drink?" I asked him as I rolled my eyes, pushing myself to my feet and holding my hand out for his cup.

"Yeah," he grumbled, still getting over my linguistic betrayal. "See what's taking Scott so long," he told me as I left the room, stepping over Scott's vacated spot on the floor and wandering into my kitchen.

"Hey there, teen wolf," I greeted my boyfriend's best friend as I entered the room, heading for the table filled with bottles of alcohol, beginning to pour Stiles a bourbon and coke, and myself a vodka tonic. Scott was staring out my kitchen window into the shadows, a far away look in his eyes. He jumped when I spoke, surprising, considering his supernatural senses. "Penny for your thoughts?" I asked the boy I regarded as a friend.

Scott turned around, giving me his full attention. "Thinking about you, actually," he responded, and I paused, cocking my head at him and watching him warily.

"I'm flattered," I told him cautiously, picking up the vodka bottle and filling my glass more than usual. "But you should know I consider myself thoroughly taken, by your best friend, in fact. And, I'm not really one for polygamy – surprising, I know – but I've tried it in the past, and honestly, it's not all it's cracked up to be-"

"Please stop talking," the werewolf muttered, shooting me an exasperated look. I sealed my lips shut, peering across the room at him, waiting for him to continue. "I _meant_ that I was thinking about you and Stiles," he corrected me kindly.

"Oh," I muttered, but refused to be embarrassed by the miscommunication. I finished pouring the drinks, narrowing my eyes as I listened to Stiles in the other room. "_Quit cheating_!" I yelled over my shoulder, startling Scott briefly.

"_I'm not_!" Stiles yelled back, ignoring the fact that I could hear him rifling the bag of tiles. I couldn't help but roll my eyes fondly, smirking down into the clear liquid in my glass. I glanced up, and Scott was grinning at me in a way that instantly put me on guard.

"What?" I asked the wolf self-consciously, nose crinkling as I awaited his reply.

He continued to smile. "You're good for him, you know?" he said, completely surprising me.

I raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. "Excuse me?"

"I know you don't_ think_ you are," he continued on boldly. "Because of _what_ you are. But, you should just know that you are, in fact, good for him." I stared at him skeptically, green eyes narrowed with apprehension. "I never got to apologise," he said, the subject change practically giving me whiplash.

"What?" I asked confusedly. "Apologise?"

"For last week," he elaborated gently, picking up his own cup of simple beer and taking a sip, even though we all knew it wouldn't do shit. "None of it – any of it – would have happened if I hadn't let it," he sighed, ducking his head, clearly ashamed. "You nearly died because I was too weak, and I'm sorry."

I put down my own cup, stepping closer to the boy and placing a firm hand on his broad shoulder. "Scott," I said softly, making him glance up at me with sorrowful eyes. "Shut the_ fuck_ up."

He blinked dumbly for a full minute, struggling to process what I'd said. "Huh?" he finally asked, strong brow furrowed confusedly.

"I never wanna hear you apologise for that bullshit again," I demanded strictly, glaring at him with only half the severity that I usually did. "It's not your fault. It was my choices that got me bitten, and mine alone. You were simply on the sidelines. If I had to go back in time and relive the night over again, I wouldn't change a damn thing," I assured him, staring into his puppy dog eyes to make sure my words sunk in.

He seemed to get choked up with emotion, making my eyebrows raise in discomfort. "If I'd gotten you killed...Stiles would have-"

"Moved on," I interrupted him. He looked like he wanted to argue me on that one, but I changed the subject before he could. "Look, the point's moot anyway. I'm still alive and kicking, so no harm, no foul," I shrugged, shooting him a bright smile that was only _slightly_ forced. "Now, come on, don't be the guy that ruins game night with _feelings_."

He cracked a small smile, and I felt proudly accomplished.

"Come on," I continued with a grin, scooping the drinks up in my hands and gesturing for him to follow me out the door. "I think Scrabble's run it's course for the night. What are your thoughts on _Cards Against Humanity_?"

"You only wanna change games because you're getting a major ass-kicking at this one," Stiles chirped, the only even mildly tipsy one in the room as he took his glass from me and sipped it eagerly.

Scott glanced at me, laughing as I rolled my eyes and settled into my spot next to Stiles.

And just like that, everything was back to normal.

* * *

Things may have been going well, but something still hung over Stiles and I like a raincloud.

It had been a long time since I'd taken human lives so easily, so mercilessly. It took every bit of strength I had in me to keep denying that I'd enjoyed it. I thought I was succeeding in acting like nothing was wrong, but Stiles knew me too well.

Everything came to a head a few weeks after the whole disaster. I was pulling weeds from the flowerbeds lining my back porch. I didn't really care about the state of my garden, but I had to do something, _anything_ to keep myself occupied. Being alone with my thoughts at that point in time wasn't going to help matters.

"What are you doing?"

I looked up at Stiles, wincing as the sun made my head ache. "Uh, lawn maintenance?" I asked, genuinely confused by the question.

"What's wrong with you lately?" he countered, clearly on a mission.

I knew what he was talking about, and as much as I wanted to deny anything was in fact wrong, I knew I couldn't treat him like a child. "I nearly died." It may not have been the whole truth, but at least it wasn't a complete and utter lie.

"You're already dead," he responded, and though it sounded cruel, I knew he was merely echoing my own words back to me. I looked away, focusing on the task at hand and ripping a stubborn weed out with only slightly too much force, dirt flicking past my face. "Is it...did I do something wrong?"

I glancing up at him sharply, furious with myself that he thought this was_ his_ fault. Though, I suppose I could see how he'd think that. I hadn't allowed myself to be close to him since the whole ordeal only weeks before. He'd seen me at my worst, seen me in a way I'd sworn he never would. I felt like I let him down. And if he wasn't a hormonal teenage boy, he probably wouldn't want me touching him anyway.

"_I_ did something wrong," I muttered before I'd realised I'd spoken. I pressed my lips together, exhaling through my nose and continuing to tug the little green plants from the garden. I wondered why humans did this sort of thing. I never looked at someone's yard and judged their character. I couldn't have cared less if their roses were wilting or they had weeds lining their flowerbeds.

I guess it'd been so long since I'd been human that none of it made sense. I may have gotten my humanity back, but it didn't mean I was any closer to actually being _human_. My own thoughts made me choke, there wasn't _anything_ even _slightly_ human about the way I'd revelled in ripping out those innocent people's jugulars. The way I loved the feeling of their hot blood sliding down my throat.

I longed for the days where I could do the same thing and feel nothing but pleasure. But, that was the price of flipping the humanity switch. And though I ached to flip it off and go back to the way I'd spent the last two centuries, I knew I couldn't.

And the reason was standing in front of me.

"It's about what happened, isn't it?" Stiles asked, though he already knew. "That night in the alley."

I was silent, clenching my fist around a plant that I wasn't even sure was a weed and yanking it from the ground.

"It wasn't your fault."

I glanced up at him sharply, brows pulled together incredulously. "I don't know what massacre you witnessed, but the one I was there for was definitely one hundred percent _my fault_."

He winced like something I'd said pained him, eyes on his feet as he padded down the stairs to meet me in the yard. I didn't move from my crouched position, glaring defiantly at the dirt, hands braced on the ground.

"You're a good person, Jules," he murmured softly, sincerity overflowing in his tone.

"You've known me less than six months," I growled, shooting upwards and spinning around to glare at him. "You don't know _what_ kind of person I am."

He looked inexplicably hurt by my outburst, and guilt instantly curdled in my stomach. No matter how much remorse I may have felt, I wasn't going to go through the embarrassment of retracting the statement.

"Talk to me, Juliet," he practically begged, and the sound of my full name, spoken curtly and emotionlessly, falling from his lips, made me wince.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said with a shrug. I'd been so happy to spend the weeks pretending nothing was wrong, to laugh with him over something stupid Derek did, or the way Isaac wears a scarf every time we see him; to sit in silence as he begrudgingly did his homework while I read an old first edition classic and listened to my favourite jazz album; to have Scott come over and mess around, playing lame boardgames and squabble over who was cheating. It was bliss, if only we didn't have such darkness hanging over our heads.

I hated myself for it.

"How can you even look at me?" I asked quietly, too tired to keep pretending.

"What do you mean?" he replied, though we both knew he already knew.

"The girl you..." I paused, not sure how to continue. "The girl you decided you cared for, that wasn't her. I don't know if I can go back to being her, either. I don't know if you could ever care for me again."

"I think that's up to me to decide," he responded with a heavy frown.

I grimaced, glancing up at the sun before my eyes flickered down to my daylight ring, where the lapis lazuli stone glittered in the rays. Stiles was better with words than he thought he was, but not when he was trying to. I knew he was struggling to come up with an appropriate response, trying to put words to his emotions.

"You're wrong."

Finally, he found the words. Only, they weren't particularly good ones. "Excuse me?" I asked, my voice like steel, looking up at him with a single raised eyebrow.

"You were never a different person. You're just _you_, only with a little more humanity over the last few months, a stronger moral compass," he swallowed, cringing as he listened to himself speak. "You're trying to be better than what vampire society dictates you should be." My frown didn't let up, so he tried a different approach. "I like to think of you as an addict. So you slipped up; you fell off the wagon. You made a mistake. It happens."

My expression hardened into a hard glare, a look I _never_ shot at my human boyfriend. "A mistake that ended two innocent _lives_, Stiles," I growled, eyes narrowing at him. "If it were anybody else you wouldn't put up with it; you'd want to slay them."

"But it _isn't_ anybody else," he snapped back, jaw clenched defiantly. I felt the fight leave me, the fury in my eyes softening. Why did he think so highly of me? What did I do to deserve his reverence? The fire didn't leave him like it did me, something in my gentle expression seeming to fuel him. "It's _you. _And I _know_ I should hate you, I _know_ I should be disgusted by all of this; by all that you are. But I'm _not_." He took a deep, shuddering breath, shoulder sagging as his melted chocolate eyes slid closed. "Not even slightly."

I'd forgotten what it felt like to be loved. What it felt like to be accepted. It was wrong, he was a human and I was a vampire and we had everything against us, but I couldn't help the tug I felt for him, like magnets being drawn together.

I couldn't even tell you what was so special about the kid. I couldn't put words to it, I just knew he was special, I just knew that he was my lighthouse, a shining beacon breaking through the darkness that was my existence.

I never thought I'd be one of those people to become consumed by love for a person, let only someone I met but a few months ago. But suddenly I was looking at him and I knew he was it for me. It wasn't like Klaus, whom I'd held a burning admiration, a burning passion for. This – Stiles – was different. Stiles was encompassing me, he was everything, all that mattered. I'd been struggling, recently, with a purpose, with a reason for being. I was a vampire who didn't kill people, what did that mean? What did that look like?

Now I knew, Stiles was my reason.

"So you don't hate me?" I asked, sounding more vulnerable than I would have liked.

Stiles' eyes glistened, but he didn't cry. "I don't think there's anything you could do that could make me hate you," he answered honestly, heart beating steadily, albeit quickly, in his chest. "Not a damn thing."

I wouldn't admit it, not even under oath, that my eyes began to water. I sucked in a shaky breath, glancing down at my hands. The blood had taken so long to wash off. It'd been stained on my skin. I'd spent over an hour in the shower, the water long since turned cold, as I scrubbed my bloody skin, desperate to be free of the delicious smelling drug. I could still see the colour on my pale hands, still see the human's screaming eyes as I drained the life from them with pleasure.

Another set of pale hands slid into my vision, long fingers winding around my wrists, their skin toasty warm against mine.

My eyes slid shut, a better alternative to pathetic tears. "I just want to shut it off," I whispered brokenly, not for a second over-exaggerating. "I want it gone."

"Your humanity?" he asked softly, stepping closer, clasping our hands together. I breathed in his scent, the chocolatey mint smell calming me better than anything else could have.

"It's so much easier without it," I admitted weakly, shuffling even closer and burying my head in his shoulder, nuzzling the sliver of skin his collar revealed as the hot sun beat down on my back.

"I won't pretend to understand," he murmured back to me lips gently brushing my hair. "But you should know that you're the strongest person I know, and I'll care about you, humanity or not. As long as you want me."

My lips tipped up slightly, pleasure curling through me. "Better get comfortable," I told him softly. "It's going to be a long time."

* * *

"What are you doing out here?" the familiar voice of the local alpha spoke up, but I wasn't surprised by the appearance, having heard him walk up to me through the shadows.

"Having a smoke where my boyfriend can't give me shit about it," I retorted effortlessly, sucking in a lungful of chemicals and blowing them out in Derek's direction to piss him off. "What are _you_ doing lurking in the woods outside Stiles' house?"

"Merely passing through," he shrugged, arms crossed over his black leather jacket.

"Any word on Erica and Boyd?" I questioned conversationally, flicking the ash from the tip of my cigarette, glancing up at the starry night sky.

"None."

I hesitated, pursing my lips as I thought. "They probably got away just fine," I assured him in a moment of weakness. "God knows I'd wanna get the hell out of town if I had _you_ as an alpha."

Derek shot me a sour look through the darkness, but decided not to rise to the bait. "I wouldn't be so sure," he muttered after a moment, glancing over his shoulder and peering into the thick shadows of the forest.

"Something you want to tell me?"

His head whipped around to face me, and he shot me a suspiciously innocent look through the gloom. "Why would you ask that?"

"That pack that got me bitten, the Original so close to town; something brought them here," I listed, frowning at him as I puffed on my smoke. "I'm not an idiot, Derek, and I don't appreciate being treated as one."

"I'm handling it," he responded, knowing full well that it wasn't an answer.

Losing what little patience I had, I dropped my cigarette, stepping on it apathetically as I stalked towards the alpha, who didn't even have the decency to look afraid. My fingers curled around the fold of his jacket, and I used the leverage to pull him closer to me, bringing myself to my full height as though that would make me more imposing. "If I find out that whatever you're so brilliantly 'handling'," I made angry quotation marks with my free hand, glaring at him through the dark, "is putting Stiles or Scott in danger, you're gonna wake up one testicle lighter. Am I clear?"

Derek looked like he wanted to argue, but probably knew this wasn't an argument he was going to win. So, with a begrudged glare and an angry huff, he nodded his head. "Crystal," he confirmed snidely, stepping back and forcefully shoving off my grasp.

"Beautiful," I hummed lightly, the menace gone from my expression with but a blink. "Well, if that'll be all..." I trailed off without waiting for an answer, spinning around and heading for the soft light illuminating the back porch of my house.

I wasn't sure if I expected him to say any more, but either way I was relieved when I made it inside without any extra comments.

"I know you were smoking," Stiles said bluntly as I wandered into the kitchen, where he was leant over a pot, cooking some kind of fat-free soup for he and his father. "You can do it inside, you know?"

"Secondhand smoke kills," I retorted, though it wasn't really the real truth.

He rolled his eyes over his shoulder in my direction, and my lips twitched up in a smirk. "Please don't go all 'Edward Cullen' on me," he muttered, forcing the amusement from his tone.

"...I don't understand that reference."

Stiles snorted indelicately. "You know? _Twilight_?"

"I'm aware of who it is," I said, crinkling my nose at him as I moved further into the room, stopping beside the bench next to the stove and easily propping myself on the hard surface so I was within touching distance of my boyfriend. "I just don't understand how the reference relates to our situation."

He shot me an incredulous look.

This time it was me rolling my eyes. "I mean, aside from the obvious vampire/human-interspecies-dating thing," I elaborated with a displeased scowl.

"Well, in the fictional relationship of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan, the former was always weirdly protective, to the point of insanity. He wouldn't let her do anything, he had to constantly save her, _and_ he watched her sleep every night," Stiles paused, looking up from the pot to narrow his honey brown eyes at me. "You've never watched me sleep, have you?" he asked suspiciously.

I huffed in amusement, "I've seen you asleep, but I've never snuck in to your room with the specific intention of _watching_ you sleep."

He seemed satisfied with my answer. "Anyway," he continued surprisingly smoothly, picking up the big spoon and stirring the broth he was attending to. "Just because I'm human, it doesn't mean I'm helpless. It doesn't mean you need to keep every danger, such as driving in wet conditions and secondhand smoke, away from me. And it _certainly_ doesn't mean I need you to save me every other day."

I smiled at him brightly. "Good," I told him sincerely, and he looked away from the full pot to raise an eyebrow at me. "I'd be disappointed if that's what you wanted," I grinned. "I'm your girlfriend, not your babysitter."

We were quiet for a moment, the sound of the smooth jazz pouring out from the radio on the opposite counter, my favourite station that Stiles put on whenever I came around. He pulled a spoon from a drawer, dipping it in the broth and holding it up to my lips. Heat not being a problem for me, I didn't bother blowing on it before sealing my lips around it, tasting the admittedly delicious soup.

"What do you think?" he asked, looking between me and the food.

"It's good," I shrugged honestly.

"Yes, but does it need more salt?" he questioned.

My brow furrowed. "Uh, no?"

Stiles huffed impatiently, "you're useless."

"Oh, that's lovely," I snapped back with no real anger. "Boyfriend of the year."

"Ah yes, when we're old and grey we'll tell our children about the year I won this award," he jested, and instantly my heart fell into my stomach. He seemed to register the sickened expression on my face, and for a moment he was confused before realisation fell over him. "Oh _shit_," he hissed, dropping the spoon into the pot with a plop and turned to face me fully, heart hammering in his chest. "_Crap_, I'm so sorry. I spoke before thinking. Dammit, why do I always do that? I know you can't-_we_ can't, or won't-"

"It's okay," I told him reassuringly, forcing my lips to tip up into a fake smile. I slid off the bench, my boots clicking against the tiled floor. I felt solemn, and so very ill. I made my way from the room, "I'll see you later, enjoy your night with your dad."

"Wait, Jules," he called out, spinning around and racing after to, latching onto my wrist before I could slip from the room. I let him pull me to a stop, turning back around to face him, face expressionless.

There was a look of sincere remorse in his eyes, and I couldn't help the way my lip wobbled.

"I know I'm only in high school and not at all ready for those kinds of things, I was just joking around, and I mean, I know it's not an option for you-for _us_ but-"

"Do you want kids?" I asked, pain in my chest that wasn't from any visible cause. I was able to keep my eyes from watering thanks to years of finely tuned skill.

"I mean, I'm only sixteen, I don't really think about it that much," he hesitated, but I merely stared back until he gave me a real answer. "I guess I do, eventually, yeah."

I blinked, his words making me ache. "And you know that I can never-"

"I know," he assured me, stepping closer and licking his lips nervously, his heart racing. "I mean, we could always adopt," he tried to jest, but the joke fell flat.

"When?" I asked with a sneer. "When you're thirty-five and I'm 238 in a nineteen year old's body?"

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek and averted his gaze to the floor, something like shame in his expression.

"What?" I asked with a worried frown. "What aren't you telling me?"

He looked reluctant to answer, but knew I'd ultimately give him no choice. "I know we haven't really talked about it, but I thought, maybe – eventually – you might...turn me."

I stared.

And stared.

Of _course_ I wanted to turn him, but I hadn't thought for a second that that might be something _he _would want. In the parking garage so many months ago with Peter, he'd turned down the bite and I'd assumed that was it. Besides, who would voluntarily become one of the undead?

I mean, sure_ I did_, but that's a bad example.

"You would want that?" I asked, my voice embarrassingly weak.

Familiar red blotches appeared on the (currently) human's pale face. "Well, I mean, it wasn't an overnight decision," he said, letting go of me to twist his hands together anxiously. "And not for a while, there're still things – human things – that I wanna do. But maybe, if you want to, we could do it when I'm your age – physically, I mean."

I watched him through apprehensive eyes. "You don't want to be a vampire," I finally said, shaking my head and turning away.

"What?" he asked, confused by my response.

"You're not vampire material," I tried with a mean scowl on my lips, but my human was too bright, not falling for my ruse for even a second.

"Maybe not," he shrugged, once again moving closer, and I found I couldn't step away. "Maybe I'm not vampire material. Maybe I'll be the worst vampire in the history of vampires, but I'm not choosing this for the strength or the speed or the reflexes or the lifestyle," a small smile quirked at the corner of his irresistible mouth. "I'm choosing this to be with you. So it doesn't matter what I'll do right or wrong, all that will matter is we'll be together," he paused, considering something for a moment. "And maybe it might be nice to be able to wrestle you without you having to let me win all the time."

Was there really anything I would have preferred to hear?

He wanted to – literally – trade his life to be with me. I couldn't help myself, stepping forwards and pushing myself onto my toes to press our lips together. He grinned triumphantly against my mouth as I wound my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I pulled away quickly, needing finish the conversation before we went any farther. "How about we wait until you're nineteen," I suggested quietly, our noses just barely brushing. "And however you feel then, _that's_ what we'll act on." A mischievous grin spread across my red lips. "After all, it _has_ only been a few months since we started dating," I said with a smirk. "Don't wanna pull a Shakespeare and get my lover killed so soon in the relationship."

"We're not even lovers," he said with an eye roll.

I sobered, staring up at him with serious eyes. "Do you want to be?"

Stiles choked, coughing twice before righting himself and staring down at me with his wide, caramel gaze. "What?"

"Do you want to be lovers?"

He gawked down at me incredulously. "Are you-um-what, uh-"

"The only reason we haven't is because I'm worried about hurting you, you know that, right?" I asked, needing to be sure he understood.

"Shouldn't it be _me _saying that to_ you_?" he asked, raising a dubious eyebrow. I stared at him levelly, anticipating a genuine response. "I want to go as fast as you need," he told me sincerely. "The rest doesn't matter to me."

I wanted to say more, tell him that I was ready _now_, but I knew that was a lie. I'd never slept with a human I hadn't seriously injured before, mostly because I'd never tried. But I didn't want to risk it with him, never with him. My head tilted as I heard the sound of the cruiser pulling into the vacant spot in the driveway, signalling the arrival of his dad.

"Soon," I vowed while I still could, pushing myself up to slant our lips together briefly. "Have a nice night."

"Stay," he requested before I'd even fully left his grasp, clutching me back to him tightly. "Have dinner with us."

I wanted to say no, but he basically just told me that he wants to be with me for eternity, and besides, how the hell was I supposed to say no to those eyes?

"Juliet," The sheriff greeted me as he slipped inside the kitchen, but not with any hint of surprise. I supposed I'd been such a permanent fixture in his son's life over the last few months that he was beginning to expect me to be there with him more often than not.

"Jules is joining us for dinner," Stile chirped, bounding over to the pot and stirring the broth gently. "Hope that's okay."

"Of course," he smiled at me as he turned to leave. "Happy to have you."

His boots thudded against the stairs as he strode up them, and I tuned out when I heard him rifle through his clothes to get changed. "See, my dad likes you," Stiles spoke up, knowing what I was thinking before even I did.

"I've never met a partner's parents before," I divulged softly, folding my hands together and staring down at my chunky daylight ring.

Stiles glanced away from his task in surprise, blinking over at me with bewildered honey eyes. "I'm the first?"

I wandered closer, taking a figurative step and winding my arms around his waist, leaning my chin upon his shoulder. "I may not have a lot of firsts left to give," I murmured to him, lips curved up in something of a smile. "But that's one that you get to have."

I saw his cheek lift as he grinned, continuing to stir the broth in front of him. A minute passed and I heard the footfalls of his dad on the stairs, so I pressed a kiss to the spot below Stiles' ear, smirking when he shivered, and moved away, putting a respectable distance between us.

"So," John began, taking a seat at the table and nodding gratefully at his son when the kid dished up a bowl of the, admittedly, appetising smelling dinner. "Only a week left until school," he said conversationally, and I couldn't help but cringe at the unpleasant reminder. "How are you two going to spend the rest of your summer?"

"There's a silent film festival down at the theatre the next few nights," Stiles shrugged once he'd swallowed his first bite and I raised an eyebrow at him in surprise. "I was thinking we could go to those."

It was the first I'd heard of it, but the idea gave me a warm sort of glow that only Stiles ever could. "Are you a fan of silent films, Juliet?" the older man asked curiously, waiting as I took a moment to collect myself, swallowing the hot, savoury soup, enjoying the way it heated my cold body.

"I like the classics," I told him with a gentle smile, eyes sliding to narrow at Stiles who grinned innocently.

"And jazz?" My eyebrows rose in surprise at the question, but I should have known the police officer would pick up on it eventually. "It's all that plays when you're over."

"I'm a girl of simple pleasures," I replied coyly, lips twitching up in Stiles' direction. John didn't need to know exactly _what_ those pleasures could potentially entail.

"I think it's nice," he smiled at me, reaching for the glass of water Stiles had put out for him, taking a sip. "It's a rare quality. What was your favourite year? Music wise, I mean."

"If we're talking twentieth century, 45' was great. But you can't get much better than 55', I mean you've got the _King Cole Trio, _and _Julie London _released a fantastic album. That one didn't gain much speed until later in the year, but once it did it was everywhere. Of course I have to mention _Miles Davis_ who came in with a great album around March, and there was _Dinah Washington _who was gorgeous, I actually saw her live-"

There was a swift kick to my side, and I realised my mistake. John was staring at me through confused, narrowed eyes.

"She means on video," Stiles interjected, saving me from my embarrassing mistake. I was 200-fucking-years-old, I shouldn't have let my guard down so easily. "She saw her live on video."

"Obviously," John huffed with a grin, shoving another mouthful of soup into his mouth. "Do you want to do something in History when you leave school, Jules?" he asked with kind interest.

The question stumped me. I didn't have an answer prepared. I wasn't doing _anything_ when I left school, except moving somewhere far away, changing my last name and starting high school again.

I glanced at Stiles, not knowing how to respond, and realised that _wasn't_ what I'd do after school. I'd be with Stiles. Maybe he'd go to university, I _hoped_ he would. He'd thrive there. And with one phone call I could get him in anywhere he wanted to go. I could study whatever he did, or maybe I could do an art history class or something. We could get an apartment together, maybe even get a dog. He'd make me unnecessary pancakes for breakfast, and we could go to dinner once a week, and take the dog on walks to the park.

And he wanted to be a vampire, eventually. Which meant after a while, if he wanted, I could change him. I could teach him about his speed, strength, and vampiric history. I could introduce him to my friends across the world. And after he finished university I could take him to London and show him where I grew up, then Italy, to the Colosseum and teach him Italian. He'd _love_ the food, that I knew for certain.

Suddenly a realm of possibilities I hadn't even _dreamed_ possible were opened up to me. I could have a _life. _Not just any life, but a life with _Stiles_.

"Jules?" Stiles prompted me, and I blinked, reality suddenly crashing over me. He and his father were watching me with furrowed brows. Clearly I'd been unresponsive for some time.

"I haven't decided yet," I blurted, a burning hot feeling burning in my chest – the good kind – as I gazed at Stiles, who had a curious eyebrow raised.

"And college?" the sheriff asked, smoothing over the odd break in conversation.

"Definitely," I nodded, glancing at Stiles briefly to see him covering a smirk. "I don't know what I'll study. I think I have a lot of options to consider," my own lips tipped upwards. "I mean, how many times will I get to be an undergrad?"

Stiles coughed on his soup, and I reached over to pat him once on the back as he desperately drank half his water in an attempt to clear his throat.

Cleaning up after dinner was a quiet but pleasant affair. John refused to let me help, so I reclined in a chair and watched he and Stiles squabble about who would be on drying duty. With a tired but content farewell, the sheriff bid us both a goodnight and padded up the stairs to bed.

"Were you serious about the film festival?" I asked to break the silence, and Stiles ducked his head sheepishly.

"I meant to ask you sooner, but I forgot," he muttered sheepishly. "Do you wanna go?"

"I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do," I told him with a sincere smile. "But we don't always have to do things I like, you know," I said quietly, and his brows pulled together in question. "You don't have to always listen to smooth jazz, or take me to silent film festivals. We could go to a death metal concert after watching a documentary on Bill Gates and I'd be thrilled, because we'd be together."

Although the sentimentality was spot on, he cringed at my examples. "When have I _ever_ expressed enjoyment for either of those things?" he asked, nose crinkling at the thought.

"My point is," I rolled my eyes lightly, a small smirk on my lips. "I want to do things that you enjoy too."

"Noted," he said, hand moving like he was checking off an invisible list. His phone beeped from his pocket, and he pulled it out to scan the message, brows pulling together. "Question," he murmured, caramel eyes moving back to my face. "How ridiculous is it that our favourite werewolf wants to get a tattoo?"


	33. Hurricane

**A/N: All right guys, this is where things get complicated.**

**So my timeline for the Vampire Diaries (for those of you who watch it and care, anyway) is severely off. For you guys keeping track, the 'summer' section of this story coincided with the 'summer' after season 2 of TVD. Now, the problem is that there's a certain character I'm introducing in this chapter who won't be, shall we say, 'revived' for a few months in the TVD verse. However, I'm speeding things up. I'm sure you guys don't care anyway, since you've all made it clear you want this character to show up very badly.**

**Enjoy you devious monkeys. **

* * *

_I'm a wanderess, _

_I'm a one night stand,_

_Don't belong to no city,_

_Don't belong to no man._

_I'm the violence in the pouring rain,_

_I'm a hurricane_

Hurricane - Halsey

* * *

"This is stupid."

Scott rolled his eyes, tilting his head to raise an eyebrow at his best friend. "You're just saying that because you're afraid of the pain," he replied with a smile.

"Rightly so," he retorted as he pulled into a spot on the side of the road, pushing my legs off the back of his chair with a stern frown. I smirked through the dark at him, and he just tutted in annoyance.

"It can't be any worse than getting bitten by a vampire," he responded smugly, mischief dancing in his chocolate eyes as we both saw Stiles flush.

"That-that's different," he muttered, pulling the keys from the ignition and unplugging his phone from the centre console. I snorted from the back, and he shot me a sour look before cracking open his door and all but tripping out onto the empty road, the surface wet from the recent rain.

I shared a smirk with Scott as we both slid from the jeep with far more grace, doors clicking shut behind us. Despite his indignation, the first thing Stiles did when I reached him was wrap his hand around mine, threading our fingers together and tugging me close to his side. I grinned in the dull glow of the overhead streetlight, bumping my hip against him gently as we let Scott lead to way down the street, heading for the big glowing letters clearly spelling out _tattoo. _

The large man in the shop gave us a doubtful look over his glasses, a piece of red fluff caught in his messy beard. "ID?" he asked Scott, and the kid passed over the correct one. The artist looked over it with careful eyes before grunting and giving it back.

"You sterilise the needles first, right?" Stiles asked in clear worry, and the man shot him a severely annoyed look. I rolled my eyes, tugging my boyfriend away from the intimidating figure, letting Scott begin to sort out details while I pulled Stiles from earshot, stopping in front of the wall of art, gazing at it thoughtfully.

"You know, I nearly got a tattoo once," I told my human conversationally, squeezing his hand, my eyes drifting over the words.

"Why didn't you?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his best friend distractedly.

I shrugged, "I guess when you're facing eternity, committing to something like a tattoo is a big deal."

Interest peaked, he looked back at me. "What were you going to get?"

"The tree of life," I admitted, lips twitching up as he raised his eyebrows, only half listening as the man went through all the health, safety and maintenance information with an eager Scott. "It was going to be an ironic gesture, more than anything. But I couldn't go through with it. That and at the time Klaus said he didn't think it was classy for a woman to have one, so I let it go."

Stiles frowned down at me as I absently scuffed the sole of my converse against the ground. Before he could say anything, Scott and the artist interrupted. "Just take a seat in that chair," the imposing man said, pointing to a reclining chair in the middle of the room. I let go of Stiles' hand, bumping him lightly once more before wandering over to Scott's side while my boyfriend distractedly flipped through one of the art books.

"Nervous?" I asked him pleasantly.

"Excited," he corrected, and I couldn't help but grin.

"What do you want and where do you want it?" the artist asked, and Scott pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "Boy," the man snarked sarcastically from over his glasses. "It's a good thing you drew me a picture."

Scott grinned in amusement at the man, who walked around to his side and began preparing his tools. "Hey Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles spoke up, holding out the image of a monster that looked uncannily like the kanima. I snorted from my place by Scott, rolling my eyes at the kid. "Too soon?" he asked with pursed lips, glancing down at the art. "Yeah..." he huffed, going back to idly flipping through the large book. "I don't know man, are you sure about this? It's pretty permanent, you know?"

"I'm not changing my mind," Scott replied strongly, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Okay but why two bands?"

"Yeah, that's a good question," I interjected, taking a seat by the wolf's side and watching the man with the needles carefully. "Why, out of everything, this design?"

"I like it," he responded simply.

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning?"

They continued to squabble about it, but I tuned it out, crossing one leg over the other and staring across the room, assessing each piece and considering them. Maybe I should have gotten one. Well, I figured I could come back any time and get one, and maybe it wasn't _that_ permanent for a vampire. If I really hated it I could just take a knife to the area; gorge out the chunk of skin and let it heal over. I doubted the tattoo would grow back with it.

"See, he gets it."

"He's _covered_ in tattoos Scott," Stiles muttered snidely, throwing a glance at the artist as I realised I completely missed the last half of the conversation. "Literally."

"You ready?" the man asked Scott, wisely ignoring the disparaging kid. The werewolf nodded with false confidence, his thundering heart the only give away of his nervousness. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you?"

"Nope," he breathed, wincing heavily when the sharp pain began on his upper arm.

"I tend to get a little squeamish..." Stiles trailed off, grimacing as he stared at the needles penetrating Scott's skin. His face turned somewhat green and he began to fall. I could have gotten to his side in plenty of time to catch him, but there was no way the tattoo artist wouldn't notice my supernatural speed, so with a cringe I let my boyfriend fall ungracefully to the floor, clicking my tongue regretfully when he didn't immediately get up.

"You good?" I asked Scott casually, the wolf having barely noticed his friend's fall.

"Yeah," he nodded distractedly, clearly trying to stay strong. "Go."

With a nod I slid from the chair and made my way over to an unconscious Stiles. I knelt on the ground beside him, reaching over to poke him in the cheek. His heart was beating calmly in his chest and his breathing was even, so I wasn't too worried. I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair, wincing when they ran over a small bump. "You got a first aid kit?" I asked the man over my shoulder.

"Cupboard under the register," he grunted, focused on his task.

Within a minute I was back at Stiles' side, pressing the ice pack to his no doubt aching head.

"Stiles," I sang, placing a gentle hand on his chest and leaning over him, my dark hair falling around us like a curtain. Slowly but surely, the pale human blinked awake, staring up at me with bleary eyes.

"Wha-?" he asked, gazing up at me foggily.

"You passed out," I told him with a wicked smirk, and his nose crinkled adorably.

"Did not," he grumbled, lifting up a clumsy arm and halfheartedly trying to shove me away. I giggled, ignoring the movement and reaching behind him, easily lifting him into a sitting position. He pressed his palm to his sore head, blinking into space dazedly as he recuperated from his fall. I pressed the cold pack to the growing bump on his skull, and he winced but didn't complain, hand lifting to cover my own.

Once I was sure he wasn't going to keel over again, I pecked him on the forehead affectionately before sliding to my feet, letting him sit on the hard ground to slowly recover his wits. "How are you handling it Scott?" I asked casually, moving back to my vacated seat. "Coping with the pain?"

"It's not so bad," he told me with only a slight wince.

"How's it looking?" Stiles asked curiously, pushing himself onto his knees once again to peer at the needles puncturing the werewolf's skin. I realised what was going to happen, but again didn't do anything about it, watching as his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed onto the cold ground.

Sometimes I found it hard to believe _this_ was the kid I was in love with.

* * *

"You okay?" Stiles asked as he pulled the door shut behind him. I slid into the backseat, shuffling forwards to peer over the seat at them, resting my chin on my folded hands.

"It burns," the werewolf responded with a confused frown.

I snorted and he shot me an irritated look. "Yes, you just had your skin stabbed about a hundred-thousand times with a needle," he snarked back.

"Yeah but I don't think it's supposed to feel like this." Stiles shrugged, taking the ice pack off his head and turning to face the wheel. Suddenly Scott let out a loud, pained grunt, jumping in his seat and holding his bandaged arm out in pain. "Oh God, it's definitely not supposed to feel like this! I've gotta take this thing off!"

Stiles shook his head, cringing and looking away, clearly it was the last thing he wanted to see in that moment.

Scott pulled off the bandage, and we all peered at the black inked and red skin. Like water dripping over the tattoo, the ink began to disappear, leaving smooth, tan, unblemished skin behind. Scott looked devastated, Stiles cringing while I stared with thinly veiled interest. "It healed," the wolf stated miserably.

"Thank God," Stiles sighed with relief. "I hated it." Scott turned to look at his best friend in obvious irritation. "Sorry," he apologised as an afterthought before putting the jeep into drive and pulling out of the street. "I know you have a kink for power, but you could have told him it would heal," he said over his shoulder, and I glared at him dangerously.

"I didn't know," I said to Scott, ignoring the human completely. "Vampires can get them with no problems, I didn't think it would be any different for a werewolf."

"Why do you think you can get them and not me?" he asked curiously, disappointment in his puppy-dog eyes.

"We can heal our wounds, but we're still technically dead," I explained, not even sure if what I was saying was scientifically sound. "My best guess is that our system doesn't see a tattoo as a threat to our safety or ability to function, so it doesn't heal itself." My explanation didn't seem to make him feel any better, and he merely pouted sadly and slumped in his seat, making me feel oddly guilty. "You should see Derek," I suggested quietly, clicking my tongue idly and peering at him through the soft glow of the streetlight. "He has tattoos. I'm sure he'll know what to do."

"Yeah," the wolf mumbled, tipping his head back and huffing.

"If we're taking votes I say it's a bad idea including him," Stiles spoke up.

"Well we're not, so shut up," I snapped back with little bite. He grumbled under his breath which I politely ignored.

"Have you heard from Allison?" Scott asked suddenly, making me frown at him through the gloom.

"You ask me every time I see you," I grumbled with displeasure, and he had the decency to appear ashamed.

"And every time you say no, when I know for a fact that isn't true."

My head whipped around to glare at Stiles accusingly, glad when he winced in discomfort. "I refuse to get in the middle of this one," he said quickly, switching lanes to serve as a distraction.

"Look, what happens between us girls, stays between us girls," I repeated, irritated by the way Stiles snorted with thinly veiled amusement. My palm smacked into the back of his head, and he grunted in pain at the blow. "If she didn't ask me not to say anything, you know that you'd already know."

"I know, we agreed to give each other the summer," Scott explained for the hundredth time with a sigh. "No texts, no calls."

"So how do you know she won't be back at school then?" Stiles interjected curiously.

"After everything that happened, I'm not sure she's coming back at all," Scott murmured dejectedly, and I clicked my tongue in a strange show of sympathy. My gaze snapped to Stiles, alarmed when his pulse spiked.

"I think she is," he told his best friend tightly. "I'd say pretty definite, you know? Like 100 percent."

Scott cocked his head confusedly, and the pale human pointed passed him to something out the window. Both of us turned to look, Scott's heart rate jumping when he caught sight of the girl in the car next to us, chatting to Lydia Martin with a wide grin. "Hm," I hummed with interest, dropping my head back onto my folded hands and watching the scene playing out before me.

Things were peaceful for a long moment as he stared at his lady love, but the peace was broken mere moments later when the dark haired beauty caught his gaze through the glass. "Oh my _God_," they both exclaimed in sheer horror, both ducking in their seats like it would make a difference. "Can you just drive, please Stiles?" Scott snapped irritatedly, gesturing desperately to the empty stretch of road.

"It's a red light," the human responded helplessly.

"Take pity on the guy," I mumbled to my boyfriend, smirking with amusement in the flustered wolf's direction. "I'll get you out of a ticket," I promised him, not that it did any good, because the kid winced reluctantly.

"I think we should talk to them. I think we should say something," he powered on cluelessly, and I snorted quietly behind my hand, pressing my lips together and biting down on the seam to keep a rather inappropriate chuckle in.

"No."

"I'm just going to say hi," he continued and, much to the werewolf's horror, leaned over, rolling down the window and grinning out ignorantly at the pair of girls in the car beside us.

"Oh my God, dude, _no!_"

"_Hey_...!" Stiles shouted out the partially opened window, not a second before the screeching of rubber on the road filled the air, smoke appearing at the other car's wheels as they took off, speeding directly through the red light.

I leaned back and sighed, exasperated by the dramatics of it all. Petty. That was the word. Humans were so _petty_.

"You know, they probably didn't see us," my freckled human reasoned after a thick pause.

I couldn't help but reach forwards and flick the back of Stiles' ear. The kid yelped but wisely didn't object, merely grumbling under his breath as the light turned green, pressing his foot to the gas and heading along the road behind the other car. "What are you doing?" Scott asked in sheer alarm.

"...Driving?" he asked, strong brows pulling together.

"We're right behind them."

"Well do you see any turns?"

"I don't want it to look like we're following them."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Anything!"

In a desperate move bred from lack of options, Stiles slammed his foot on the brake, bringing the Jeep to a skidding stop. I caught myself on the back of the front seat, cussing under my breath as I righted myself, leaning over the back to peer at the heavily breathing children in the front. "Take a second," I told them both, barely restrained annoyance in my tone. "And ask yourselves, 'was that _really _necessary'?"

Neither boy replied, staring out into the night where I caught the glow of the girls' car's brake lights lighting up, signalling their hurried stop. The boys cast confused looks at each other, bewilderment in their eyes.

"You should go talk to them," Stiles muttered after a moment, eyes on the car ahead of us on the otherwise deserted road.

I nodded absently, assuming he was speaking to Scott until I glanced to my left to see him staring at me expectantly. "Excuse me?" I asked, raising incredulous eyebrows. "How would _that_ even _slightly_ help this situation?"

"You're a girl, they're girls," he listed like it meant something, gesturing uselessly to punctuate his words.

"Don't pull the gender card-"

My scathing words were abruptly cut off by the sound of shattering glass and terrified screams. Jumping in alarm, within a second I was out of the Jeep and in front of the other car, hands balled into fists, preparing to defend my female friends – and I used that term loosely.

It became clear a beat later that there was, in fact, no threat. The corpse of a buck was hanging from the windscreen, blood dripping to the dirty ground. I looked up at the girls, who had hastily climbed from the vehicle, still reeling. I met Lydia's eyes, and she flinched.

I realised that I hadn't spoken to her all summer – or, in other words – since she found out I was one of the undead. I hadn't really given her much thought to be completely honest, she wasn't exactly on my radar, especially once I didn't have to see her at school every day. By the way her already frantic heart sped up, I got the feeling she was still somewhat coming to terms with what I was. But I figured that moment wasn't the time to have a Q&amp;A session with the redhead.

"Are you okay?!" Scott asked worriedly, skidding to a stop by Allison's side, Stiles on his heels.

"It came out of nowhere," Lydia panted, moving her attention from me to Stiles, who looked over her in concern.

"Are you hurt?" he asked her in worry.

"He ran right into us." They seemed to be taking it rather well, neither particularly spiralling into shock. Until, that is, Lydia cracked, shouting into the night, eyes watering as she pressed her hands to her head.

"You good Allison?" I asked softly over the top of the car, and though she didn't respond verbally, she nodded gently, attempting a smile that fell flat.

I took a breath in, jaw clicking when the scent of undoubtedly human blood met me. "I saw it's eyes right before it hit us. It was like it was crazy," Lydia continued, and I frowned with concealed worry.

"No, it was scared," Scott corrected gently, stepping closer to the dead animal and laying a hand on it's rapidly cooling coat. "Actually, _terrified_."

He looked up at me, a question I'd already anticipated in his chocolate eyes. "I'm already on it," I assured him, stepping closer to Stiles and ignoring the way Lydia instinctively shifted away from me. "Clean their wounds as soon as possible," I told my boyfriend seriously, leaning into him as he stepped closer to me. "Who knows what terrors the scent of their blood will draw out?"

"What?" Lydia asked shakily, peering into the shadows. "What's out there?"

"That's what I'm going to find out," I told her calmly, and for a moment she didn't look as afraid.

"Are you sure you should be-?"

I grabbed Stiles' hand, tugging him to me and silencing him by pressing my lips to his. He hummed into my mouth, but didn't have time to reciprocate as I pulled back almost instantly. "I'm a big girl," I told him with a smirk, squeezing his hand once before moving away, already heading down the road. "And call somebody!" I called back to them seriously. "The bigger the group, the less likely an attack."

"An attack from what?"

I decided it was better not to answer.

The forest was empty. I didn't know what I was expecting, but the complete and total lack of life within it's gloomy depths had even my hair on end. I walked at a human pace, my footsteps silent on the still-wet grass. I sniffed every few steps, smelling nothing but dew and the fading scents of animals.

About a half hour into my patrol of the area, I felt eyes on me. Unsettling though it may have been, I hadn't been kidding when I'd told Stiles I could take care of myself. I glared into the shadows, daring whatever was watching to come at me; I was ready. The smell of wolf was thick, so thick it nearly choked me. Wet dog, and blood. Something had happened there, something involving werewolves, I just wasn't sure what.

There was a crack, one too loud and too deliberate to be an accident. I spun around, fist already formed and swinging, only to be caught by a strong, lean and equally cool hand.

I stared.

It had been a long time since I'd stared into such dark eyes. A brown that bordered on black in the shadows, but glinted like fire in the sunlight. The mischievous smirk was firmly in place, sending a twisted form of nostalgia shuddering through me. I was the person I was today because of the Original family. I got my studiousness from time spent around Elijah, my apathy and corresponding passion from the influence of Klaus, my womanly charms from the devious Rebekah.

My worst trait by far, however, came from the vampire standing before me.

It was this handsome, dark-eyed man who'd taught me to crave chaos. He'd taught me to desire destruction and pain, to lust after anguish and mayhem, to live off the torture of others. From the moment I was turned, he had been the devil on my shoulder, whispering in my ear, teaching me where to bite to inflict the most pain; which bones to break to make escape impossible; how to tear someone apart and piece them back together so I could do it all over again; how to revel in the chase, and savour the kill.

"Kol."

The Original-bad-influence grinned, flattening out my fist and threading our fingers together with a cheeky grin. I pulled away instantly, scowling up at the taller vampire with distaste. "Come now darling," he said jovially, blinking at me with false innocence. "I've been daggered for over a century, I deserve at the very least a kiss."

"What are you doing here?" I questioned coldly.

"Well, you can't blame me for not sticking around to play with old 'holier-then-thou' when I got undaggered," he jeered in antipathy at his – blessedly not present – older brother.

"So you came to _me_?" I asked incredulously, eyebrows raising in pure disbelief.

"I thought to myself, _'who knows how to have fun, _and_ won't rat me out to my family first chance they get?_" he told me in that smooth accent of his. "And, sweetheart, your name was at the top of the list."

"Lucky me," I sneered, only serving to make his grin widen. "Hate to break it to you," I muttered unapologetically, crossing my arms over my chest and frowning at him through the shadows. "But I'm no longer a crazy, impressionable newborn. I've got my own shit to deal with, and you, _sweetheart_, are at the _bottom_ of the list."

"Ouch," he muttered sarcastically, placing a hand over his still heart. "What are you saying?"

"Look, I'm on a diet. I don't eat anything that isn't in a bag," I told him simply.

He frowned disappointedly. "So no brilliant, beautiful benders will be had this day?"

My lip curled at his mocking, and he grinned cheekily. "Just do the world a favour and dagger yourself again," I sneered with disdain.

"Why must you hurt me so?" he asked playfully, and I pointedly ignored the curl of pleasure I felt in my gut at the familiar banter. "Look," he said, suddenly becoming serious. "I just need somewhere to – how do they say it now days? – _lay low_."

"I have rules," I began pointlessly.

He threw his head back and groaned dramatically. "Darling, don't fool yourself. You know any rules you set I'll have to break purely on principle."

"_Requests _then," I corrected with a growl.

"Request away," he allowed with a wave of his hand, grinding on my nerves more than I'd wish to admit.

"Please don't kill anyone in town," I said, cracking my knuckles absentmindedly. "By all means, have your fun, compel to your heart's content and sample everyone you meet if you so wish it. But, for the love of _God,_ just don't kill anyone."

He peered at my through dark, narrowed eyes. "Why should I?"

"Call it a favour to an old friend?"

He pouted excessively. "I used to know this bird, Juliet Adams she was called," he began, gesturing theatrically, and I stepped away, rolling my eyes in exasperation. "She was ever so fun. The best at inflicting torture that I'd ever seen, bar the members of my own family, of course. Oh how she enjoyed the chaos, the turmoil, the sheer _pandemonium. Y_ou wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you?"

"Clever," I sneered through the dark, the moonlight lighting up his pale face as he grinned cheekily. "I grew up, I suggest you do the same. You are, after all, a good eight centuries my senior."

"Play nice," he chastised impishly. That was Kol, always playful, always flirty. He was exactly the kind of person one would think a gal like me would be perfect with. But the thing was, it didn't work. Sure, Klaus was probably the main reason we never went there, but I felt like even if we had it wouldn't have panned out. We were too alike, _far_ too alike, for it to work. We were the identical ends of a magnet, so alike that we repelled each other. "Well?" he prompted expectantly, pulling me abruptly from my thoughts. "Lead the way."

I blinked. "To where?" I asked with honest confusion.

He sighed tiredly, like he was trying to teach physics to a toddler. "Your lodgings."

"Uh, where to even begin," I wandered aloud. "Firstly, I'm not passing through, I _live_ here, so I have a house. And secondly, you're _not _staying with me."

"I beg to differ."

"Excuse me?" I asked so coldly that, were it anyone else I was having the conversation with, they would back down instantly. I wasn't so lucky.

"I've decided I shall be staying with you," he said simply, grinning like he knew exactly how big of a pain he was. "Show me to your accommodations."

"Again, it's a _house_ that I _own_," I bit out, only serving to widen his smirk. "Can't you just get a hotel room? Your family has more cash than the Queen. Hell, why don't you just _buy _a hotel."

"Well, considering I've been daggered for the last century, I'm not exactly the family account holder. And since brother and I aren't on speaking terms, looks like I'll be leeching off you for the foreseeable future."

I stared at him, scrutinising cautiously. "There's no one else you'd rather bunk down with?" I asked in a roundabout way of asking if I was really all my old friend had left.

His smirk faltered for the briefest of seconds, before it was back in place at full force. "I'll keep out of your hair," he swore, though I couldn't help but doubt it. "I just want to enjoy being amongst the living once more."

"Fine," I relented with a grimace. "But I _mean_ it, Kol, one dead body and your brother will have your _exact_ coordinates."

"Juliet, darling, you're brilliant," he grinned brightly, taking a moment to sober. "And I assume that, past county lines, all bets are off and everything with a pulse is fair game?"

"I don't care where, when or who you hunt, as long as this town is exempt."

"You drive a hard bargain, my love," he responded cheekily. "But you have yourself a deal."

* * *

"Where the bloody hell are you going at this hour?"

I looked into the lounge, raising an eyebrow at the dishevelled looking Kol, who was half propped up on the couch, squinting at what little light there was in the room. "I have school," I informed him, eyeing the empty bottles and equally empty blood bags surrounding the Original, partly impressed and partly disgusted.

"You're joking," he stated, staring at me blearily.

"I'm not," I mumbled back, adjusting the strap of my bag and reaching down to slip my feet into my favourite black boots.

Apparently deciding that was a discussion for another time, he changed the subject. "Why does it reek of human in here?" he asked, nose scrunching in distaste.

I didn't want to tell him, I wasn't sure why. Maybe I didn't want him to laugh at me, but I shook that one off. I wasn't embarrassed or ashamed by Stiles, and I wasn't going to start now. "My boyfriend spent most of the summer here," I clipped, and he took a moment to process my words before his eyes shot open wider and a devious smirk spread across his lips.

"No," his tone was one of mixed amusement and disbelief.

"Yes," I countered with a stern glare.

"A human?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," I repeated.

His snickered gleefully. "Oh, how the mighty fall."

"Suck a dick, Kol," I growled, throwing up my middle finger aggressively. He continued to chuckle even as I turned to leave. I opened my front door, glaring irritatedly into the sunlight. First Damon, now Kol. I'd never be rid of these idiots. "Try not to burn my house down while I'm out," I snapped back over me shoulder, and he only sniggered louder in response.

I'd left early enough to catch Stiles before he came to get me, decreasing the chances of him coming face to face with Kol. I was going to tell him, I really was, I just had to find the right time. Letting myself into the house as Stiles insisted I do, I followed the sounds of human bickering up the stairs and into my boyfriends room, where the sheriff was standing over his son, scowling down at him and groaning about wishing he'd had a daughter instead.

"Everything okay?" I asked evenly, propping myself up against the doorframe and raising an eyebrow at the pair who hadn't noticed me.

They shot up, John's hands leaving his son and Stiles' face flushing with embarrassment. Clearing their throats simultaneously, they straightened themselves up, pretending I hadn't caught them squabbling like children. "We were just – ah," Stiles stopped himself, clearly not having a good answer for me.

"Come on," I prompted him with a relaxed smile, his mere presence calming me more than even my smokes could. "Don't want to be late for your first day as a Junior."

"Yes," he nodded, darting to his bed and slipping his bag onto his back before moving to my side. "See you after school, dad."

The sheriff stared at him incredulously. "So _she_ asks you to go and you get up no questions asked?" he asked his son with raised brows. "Unbelievable."

"You're not a gorgeous vamp-girl," he corrected himself with a wince as I snorted discretely. "Girl. _Human. _Gorgeous _human_ girl. I mean, of course she's human, why wouldn't she be-"

"This is getting weird," John muttered to me as Stiles continued to babble. I smirked, reaching out and pressing my palm to his moving lips.

"See you later, sheriff," I told him with a smile, using my other hand to take Stiles' arm and pull him from the room.

"Have a good first day!" he called from behind us as we made our way down the hall. "Both of you!"

I felt a warm glow at being included in something so domestic, finally letting go of Stiles' mouth and moving with him to the first floor, watching as he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl before continuing through to the front door.

"I thought I was picking you up from your place?" he asked as we slid into the Jeep, him munching loudly on his breakfast. I wondered whether it was good enough for him, didn't humans need more than a piece of fruit to get them through the morning? I decided to look it up in the library later.

"I woke up early," I lied, guilt like battery acid churning in my gut. "Thought I'd come to you." I glanced out the window, peering up at the partially cloudy sky. "Scott taking his new motorbike to school?"

"Yeah. He's so happy that he saved up enough to get it," he replied with a grin. "It's not half bad, for what he paid for it, at least. I mean it could use a paint job, or seven, but it's a start."

"Good for him," I nodded, reaching forwards and pressing the button I knew to be the radio one, smiling gladly when soft music filled the car.

"So what happened last night?" he asked through a mouthful of apple, turning onto the main road and heading towards the school.

"What do you mean?" I countered, hoping I didn't sound defensive.

"Well, a text that says '_didn't find anything. Sleep well_' isn't exactly top tier communication," he responded lightly, nodding his head to the beat of the song. "You didn't find anything? No odd scents? Nothing that could have scared the buck?"

I pressed my lips together. Now would be _the_ perfect time to tell him about Kol, but something in me told me to wait. It may have been mere self-preservation, in fact it more than likely was. But above all else, I listened to my instincts. So, whatever the cause, I would obey. "Caught the scent of a pack," I told him, only lying by omission and figuring it would have to do. "It was fresh, so it wasn't the one from a few weeks ago."

"You think there's another pack in town?"

I shrugged. "They were probably just passing through," I told him honestly, running a hand through my midnight locks. "I wouldn't be too concerned."

We were quiet for the rest of the short trip, Stiles humming along to the music while I forced myself not to think about Kol, or the promise he made me that I wasn't sure he would keep, or the fact that I hadn't immediately told Stiles what was happening. Overcome with a sense of despair, I turning to Stiles, mouth open to tell him everything.

But he was already climbing from the car. I blinked at the empty seat, not having even felt us pull up at school. My door cracked open and Stiles' scent washed over me with the breeze. I took his offered hand – something in me from long ago cooing at the sweet gesture – allowing him to tug me a tad too roughly from the car. Stiles was by far my favourite human, and he had many fantastic traits. Being smooth was _not_ one of them.

"How was the drive here, mr responsible vehicle owner?" Stiles asked brightly as we met Scott at the doors to the school, clapping his friend on the back before throwing his arm over my shoulders, tugging me to his side. I let him, pleased by the open display of affection in a way that surprised me.

"The brakes stick a little, but it just needs another service, I think," the wolf replied, stepping out of the way of a frantic looking freshman, leading us down the hall. "So I was thinking about what you said about my tattoo," he told me, lips tipping up as he peered at me and his best friend.

"Huh?" I questioned, trying to remember what I'd suggested.

"About seeing Derek?" he reminded me.

"What?" Stiles asked suddenly, spine straightening. "You wanna ask _Derek _for help. Why? _Why_?"

"Jules is right, he's got the triskelion tattooed on his back," he explained rationally. "So there _has_ to be a way to do it without healing, right?"

"Yeah, but _still_," Stiles replied in a whiny tone that would usually annoy me, but he made it slightly more tolerable. "Doesn't he have his hands a little full?" he asked, gesturing to the notice board to the right of us with Erica and Boyd's photographs pinned to the fabric. A few weeks into the summer, Derek had come to me and asked for help looking for the pair. Something about having a bad feeling. Figuring I might need him to do _me_ a favour somewhere down the track, I agreed, and had been doing scouts every few days since. None of us had found anything as of yet, and with every passing day hope was growing rapidly smaller.

An irritating sounding voice flooded the hallway, and the three of us peered around the corner, eyeing the heavy-set, stern looking principle with a head of bleached hair, holding up what appeared to be a samurai sword.

I just hoped this one wouldn't be as much of a dick as the last one. Or have a prejudice against my friends and I.

As we fled the scene, desperate to stay off the new guy's radar, Scott came to a halt, making Stiles run into his broad shoulders and grunt, taking me with him. "Jules?" the wolf asked sweetly, turning around to meet my eye.

"What do you want?" I asked humourlessly, pursing my blood red lips and narrowing my kohl rimmed eyes.

"I'm not asking you to spy, or anything of the sort," he told me seriously, a touch of desperation to his tone. "But, could you just go make sure Allison's okay?"

My nose scrunched at him. "She's a big girl," I told him, reminding myself of the other night. "She can take care of herself."

"I know she can," he muttered back purely gently, as only Scott McCall could. "But I think she could use a friend."

"She has Lydia," I argued. I hadn't spoken to the hunter's daughter much over the summer, only receiving the odd text or email. They were usually short and to the point, but nonetheless friendly. I wondered all the time why she would contact _me_ of all people, but I let it go, responding back curtly and returning to normal life without giving it much thought.

"Please?" he begged me with those lethal puppy-dog eyes that I loathed so much.

"You're buying me a bottle of Jack," I grunted, leaning into Stiles briefly before spinning around and pushing past Scott, heading for the direction Allison's locker was in.

"Your girlfriend's an alcoholic," I heard the wolf mutter.

"I know," Stiles responded airily, and I could hear the dopey smile in his voice. I bit my lip to contain a grin, shoving a smaller kid out of the way and turning the corner.

The girl's didn't realise I was there for a long time, so I finally cleared my throat to announce my presence. Allison looked up, eyes widening in surprise as she spotted me. "Jules," she said, blinking at me with bewilderment. "What's up?"

Usually I would tell her the real reason I was there, but something made me pause. She probably wouldn't be happy knowing Scott was – as much as he denied it – keeping tabs on her. "How was France?" I asked conversationally, forcing myself to appear casual as I leant up against the cool metal of the lockers.

"Amazing," she said quietly, not quite making me believe she meant it. She surveyed me for a long time, I had no problem standing straight, staring right back at her as she scrutinised me. "Did Scott send you?"

I didn't want to lie, but who was I kidding? Lying was practically my default setting. "No," I replied flatly, cocking my head, emerald eyes fixed on the dark haired beauty.

"So, you and Stiles, huh?" she asked a moment later, succeeding in breaking the tension. I was reminded of a time so many months ago in the woods, hiding out with a police transport vehicle when she'd said the same thing. At the time I'd had a different answer.

"Yeah," I nodded, idly fingering the material of my bag strap.

"Finally," she said, aiming for humorous but falling short.

Lydia, apparently decided she couldn't handle the walking on glass. "Freshmen," she said abruptly, gazing into the distance. "Tons and tons of fresh-men." I followed her line of sight, peering curiously at the boys lining the hall. They looked a little old to be freshmen, but I'd long since figured that there was probably something in the water supply of this Godforsaken town. I didn't find them particularly attractive, but everyone had a type, I supposed.

To her credit, they did _smell_ amazing. I, not for the first time, deeply wished I hadn't made an oath. Breaking my diet sounded pretty sweet right then.

"You mean fresh boys?" Allison corrected, relaxing slightly. "Lydia, they're fourteen."

"Some are more mature than others," the strawberry blonde shrugged, licking her lips subconsciously.

"You know it's okay to be single. Focus on yourself for a little while; work on becoming a better person," Allison muttered thoughtfully.

"Allison," Lydia began with a laugh. "I love you." Instantly I cringed, wishing I were anywhere but there. "So if you need to do that thing where we talk about me and pretend that we're not actually talking about you, it's _totally_ fine." She paused, assessing the crowd again. "But I don't want a boyfriend."

She eyed a seriously tall teen walking passed, eyes dropping to his ass as he left.

"I want a distraction."

"Lydia," I couldn't help but say with a smirk, head tipping back against the lockers. "You would make a _superb_ vampire."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Was that a compliment or an offer?"

I grinned impishly, a fierceness in the way I flashed my teeth that should have frightened her, but she merely tilted her head. "Both," I told her, wagging my eyebrows playfully.

To my great surprise, a smile spread across her full rose coloured lips, a mirth in her eyes that I hadn't expected.

Before I could comment further, a prickling at my neck caught my attention, and on instinct I looked up, eyes sweeping the crowd, looking for the source of the feeling. Lydia made a pleased humming noise in the back of her throat as she spotted the same thing I had.

"Brothers?" Allison asked.

"Twins," she responded gleefully.

They had strong, striking features, clearly appealing to the redhead, whose heart sped up as she watched them. They also weren't _my _type physically, but the head to toe leather was a nice touch. As they passed I took an instinctual breath in. I wasn't sure what I had expected them to smell like, something supernatural from the weird vibe they gave me.

When I inhaled nothing but soap, leather and motor oil, I was equal parts surprised and relieved. Maybe I was just over-sensitive, looking for danger in everything. That made sense.

The bell above us rang, the sound echoing through the hall. "Come on," Allison said, pulling both of our attention away from the fresh meat. "We have English."

All the seats around Stiles were taken when I got to the classroom, but that wasn't a problem. Approaching the girl sitting behind my boyfriend, I leaned down, locking eyes with her pointedly. "You're going to switch seats," I commanded her with practised ease.

"I'm switching seats," she repeated mindlessly, gathering her things and pushing herself to her feet, moving to the other end of the room.

"I love it when you do that," Stiles chimed with a pleased grin, and I smirked back, dropping my bag at the leg of my chair and kicking my feet up on the desk.

"I love it when I do that too," I responded cheekily, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

My phone buzzed in the pocket of my dark jeans, and I pulled it out, raising an eyebrow as every other phone in the room lit up with the same message. I glanced to the door, watching warily as a pretty lady in delicate clothes strode into the room, reading aloud the passage that had just been texted to us. "This is the last line to the first book we are going to read," she continued softly, smiling at the class. "It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone."

I rolled my eyes, not bothering to turn the device off before shoving it back in my pocket.

"And miss Cooper?" the sweet voice said, and it took me a moment to recognise the name as my current alias. I glanced up, peering at her over my boots, sharp eyebrow raised. "Feet off the desk, please."

Although I didn't want to, I didn't see the point in getting in trouble just because I felt like being difficult. So with a rude sneer in her direction I planted my feet flat on the floor.

The class didn't get any more interesting after that, merely copying notes off the board, no discussion necessary. She seemed sweet enough, but there was something about her that I didn't like. Maybe it was the fact that she hacked the class's phones, maybe it was the fact she reeked of too much perfume. Either way, I had a feeling English would soon become my least favourite subject of the year.

Scott got called out of class halfway through, and I whispered a request to keep Stiles and I in the loop, knowing he'd pick it up. He nodded to me as he left the room, and I went back to sketching a skull and crossbones on a blank piece of paper.

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles whispered suddenly, only a few moments after Scott had left. I looked up from my doodling to watch the conversation warily. "What is that?" he asked, pointing to a bandage on her ankle. "Is that from the accident?"

"No," she muttered back under her breath. "Prada bit me."

"Your dog?"

"No my designer handbag." I snorted, the sound loud enough to carry through the room, making several heads turn towards me, including the teacher's. I cleared my throat to cover it and pretended to be completely focused on my work. "Yes, my _dog_."

"Has it ever bitten you before?" Lydia shook her head with a wince. "Okay, what if it's like the same thing as the deer? You know, like how animals start acting weird before an earthquake or something?"

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Or _something._ I just – maybe it means something's coming," he said with a huff. "Something bad."

I felt guilty again. What if Kol was the 'something bad'? I knew that was ridiculous, so I pushed it from my mind before the thought could completely form.

"It was a deer and a dog," Lydia said slowly, staring at Stiles like he was losing it. "What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice-"

There was a dull thud, and I tensed, preparing to defend my friends in the event of an attack. I realised how silly that was a moment later. What the hell would attack a high school English class in the middle of the day? Glancing to the left, I saw the familiar smear of blood against the glass, a bird having hit the surface.

A chill ran up my spine, and for the third time that morning, I knew something was wrong. Hearing the sound of a murder of crows cawing in the distance, heading right for us, I slid from my desk, moving to Stiles' side. "Get down," I told him softly, hand braced on his shoulder.

"What?"

"Now, Stiles," I hissed, staring at the oncoming wall of crows. He sucked in a sharp breath just as I shoved him none too gently to the ground. He grunted and hit the floor just as one of the windows smashed. I caught the crow that burst into the room, crushing it in my fist and dropping it apathetically to the floor. I was only one person, however, and when they just kept coming, there was little I could do but cover my head and wait for it to be over.

The birds pecked at my arms and exposed skin, but the pain didn't really affect me. I shoved the bloody crows off me with a grunt, feeling blood trickle down my cheek.

It only lasted maybe a minute, then everything fell eerily silent, bodies of the dead crows littering the ground. I hope that meant we could go home.

Stiles was fine, I pulled him up from the ground, looking him over carefully. He was scratch free, but I didn't for a second not see that he had been using himself to shield Lydia. I didn't know how I felt about that at first, but I decided not to care. Stiles was sweet, he'd have done it for any of his friends. And Lydia was just that; a friend.

"I guess that makes three," the kid himself mumbled to me, and I nodded, idly nudging a dead crow with my foot.

* * *

"Derek's house," Stiles muttered under his breath in agitation, reversing out of his parking space and pulling out onto the road. "Why don't we all go to Derek's house?" he continued sarcastically. "Doesn't that seem like a _spectacular_ idea?"

"Oh, Derek's harmless," I rolled my eyes, picking up the bottle of coke he had sitting beside him, taking a mouthful.

"Harmless?" he swung around to stare at me incredulously, even though he really should have been watching the road. "_Harmless_?"

"Calm down," I told him with a loud exhale.

"The stress that idiotic alpha has given me has probably shaved a good ten years off my life," he growled, angrily changing gears and speeding up.

I snorted loudly. "Considering you're most likely going to become immortal some time in the next few years, I'd say you're pretty safe."

Stiles knew I had a point, but wasn't in the mood to admit it. "Well at the very least I'll go prematurely grey," he grumbled childishly.

"I happen to think you'd make a rather dashing silver fox," I hummed, reaching across the gearshift to run my fingers through his soft hair.

"Good thing we'll never have to find out," he replied, still sounding rather put out. I smiled at him, once again marvelling at his sureness to be like me.

I wondered, briefly, about his motives. Did he want me for _me_, or did he want me to turn him? I brushed off the troubling thoughts before they could fully form, not in the mood for doubts.

"Please tell me you're not still squatting in the burnt down remains of your childhood home," I drawled, stepping over a chipped hunk of wood in the entryway and wandering further into the house carcass. "I bet the psychiatrist's would have a field day with you."

Derek looked up at me from where he was tending to Isaac, an unimpressed scowl on his striking features. "I'm not squatting here," he grunted, turning back to his work.

"So where're you living then, since I didn't get the memo about your change in address – oh wait," I paused suddenly like I'd remembered something. "I don'tcare."

Stiles snorted from behind me, sniggering as he followed me into the charred room, idly glancing at the unconscious beta on the table. "You know, since I'm doing your friend a favour, you could at least be civil," the alpha muttered under his breath.

"This _is_ her being civil," Stiles responded, moving to Scott's side.

"So what happened at the school that was so important?" the wolf asked with a frown, jaw clicking as he waited.

Stiles launched into the story animatedly, gesturing wildly as he described the crows showering through the windows, feathers everywhere.

"So, you wanna revisit that thing where I told you to keep me in the loop or you'd lose a testicle?" I asked under my breath, going unnoticed by the teen boys who were wrapped up in their conversation. "Anything you feel like sharing?"

Derek looked up at me with barely concealed contempt, but I kept my features easily schooled. "Come on Scott," he said abruptly, stepping away from Isaac and pointing to a trunk, gesturing for the beta to take a seat. "Yeah, I see it," he told him quietly, eyes flashing momentarily red. "It's two bands, right?"

"Yeah."

"What does it mean?" the alpha asked, sitting back up properly. I stepped around the wolves, moving, as though it was instinct, to Stiles' side. Not feeling like being overly affectionate, and therefore vulnerable, in Derek's presence, I settled for merely threading my arm through his, leaning my weight against him gently. The small gesture made his heart race, and I turned to press my mouth against his shoulder to hide a pleased smirk.

"I don't know," Scott replied softly, absently reaching out to trace the symbol in the dust on the box beside him. "It's just something I traced with my fingers."

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Do you know what the word tattoo means?"

"To mark something," Stiles interjected smugly, and with an exasperated but fond eye roll, I nudged him with my hip.

"That's in Tahitian," Scott corrected gently. "In Samoan in means_ open wound_. I knew I wanted to get a tattoo when I turned eighteen, I always wanted one. I just decided to get it now to make it kind of a reward."

"A reward for what?" I asked lightly, gripping on to Stiles slightly tighter as I awaited his answer, something in me feeling moved by the tenderness in his tone.

"For not calling or texting Allison all summer. Even when I really wanted to. Even when it was so hard not to sometimes... I was just trying to give her the space she wants."

I wanted to groan at his answer when I first heard it. The kid was so completely consumed by the girl, it couldn't have been at all healthy. Then Stiles squeezed my hand, and I realised I was probably no better. I tried to imagine going three months without having any contact with Stiles. Even it being a hypothetical situation wasn't enough to keep the stab of hurt at bay. I grit my teeth, wincing as I tried to put it from my mind how pathetically dependant I'd become on the human.

"And four months later it still hurts. It still feel like a – um..."

"Like an open wound," Stiles nodded understandingly, and I caught him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I could have sworn my still heart jumped, and I wondered whether he was thinking the same thing I was. It was pitiful if he were, though I couldn't help but admit it pleased me.

"The pain's going to be worse than anything you've ever felt," Derek told the boy simply, apparently satisfied with the answers he'd received. Stiles winced in sympathy, not even knowing what was going to happen. The alpha reached behind him, pulling out what looked like a blow torch.

"Do it."

Derek lit the torch, fire spitting from the end. Stiles jumped, exclaiming his severe dislike for the entire situation. "I'll take that as my cue," he mumbled, detaching himself from me and all but running around the pair of dogs to get to the door.

"I think you should stay," I called out as I caught the terrified expression on Scott's face. Stiles paused, grimacing back at the three of us in distaste. "Scott needs a friend with him."

Scott neither confirmed nor denied this, merely pressing his lips together and staring wide eyed at the blow torch. With a reluctant but accepting sigh, Stiles moved to Scott's side, patting him comfortingly on the back. "You got him?" Derek asked me after a moment.

My hands wrapped themselves around Scott's broad shoulders, and he flinched at the feeling of my cold temperature against his naturally warm skin. "I've got him," I confirmed, pressing the wolf into the box he was sitting on, arms tensed as I prepared to hold him down.

A beat, then the screaming started. As the fire melted away Scott's skin, he wailed at the top of his lungs, tears forming in his brown eyes. He thrashed, trying to get away from the source of the agony, but I held him down, nails digging into his skin as I struggled to keep my grip.

He barely handled a full minute before he passed out from the pain, and Stiles gagged, looking in the opposite direction to the bleeding skin. Derek continued for several minutes, and I kept my hands where they were just in case he jumped back to life. It was a rare occasion that I was in a room with someone who was screaming and I _didn't_ enjoy it. A sickening feeling curdled in my gut, knowing Scott was in pain, but I ignored it and a moment later the torch was turned off, the skin already beginning to stitch itself back together.

"Oh God," Stiles muttered sickly, grimacing and turning away from the gruesome sight.

"He'll heal," Derek said with apparent apathy, though I could swear I saw a hint of sympathy in his forest green gaze. "He wanted it bad enough, so he'll be okay." He looked at me then, a rare curiosity in his eyes. "200 years," he said conversationally. "Never got any ink?"

"Never had anything mean enough for me to want to," I responded honestly, lifting one shoulder and letting it drop.

There was a pause, then Scott startled awake, panting heavily as he recovered. "It worked," he said with clear surprise, blinking down at the new mark with happiness. He glanced back up at the alpha, gratitude shining in those puppy-dog eyes. "Thanks."

"Now we're even," Derek responded cooly putting down the blow torch in his hand and moving back to Isaac's side.

"Well, it looks pretty damn permanent now," Stiles piped up, colour beginning to return to his cheeks as he stood up with the teen wolf, clapping him on the shoulder that hadn't just healed third degree burns.

"I kinda needed something permanent," he told his friend, rolling down his sleeve. "With everything that's happened to us," he continued, and I listened absently as I instinctively followed the pair, winding my arm with Stiles' once more. "Everything just changes so _fast_. Everything's so...ephemeral." My eyebrows raised in surprise, not having expected the young wolf to have such a vocabulary.

"Studying for the PSAT's?"

"Yep."

"Nice."

That made more sense.

Without further fanfare we turned, Scott reaching for the handle and pulling open the front door, only to stop with it halfway open, staring at the new coat of red paint that shined in the natural light.

"You painted the door," he called to Derek with a confused and apprehensive frown. I realised how odd it was. Why would he bother painting the door to the ruins of his own home. Why now, when he wasn't even squatting there anymore? "Why'd you paint the door?" he asked, tone deadly serious.

"Go home, Scott."

The curt reply instantly had me suspicious, and I peered over my shoulder at the alpha stonily. "And why only one side?" the beta continued skeptically, running a hand over the freshly dried paint. My eyes narrowed as Derek's pulse jumped nervously, immediately putting me on edge.

Scott's hand flicked to the side, animalistic claws appearing from nowhere. With a frown, the boy dragged the claw across the paint, revealing the unmistakable outline of something graffitied onto the wood.

Heart racing, he scratched again, and again, not stopping until most of the paint was gone, revealing the clear shape of a familiar looking spiral. My gaze snapped to Derek accusingly, wondering if it meant what I thought it did.

"The birds at school, and the deer last night," Scott began, swallowing thickly. "Like the night I got trampled by the deer when I got bit by the alpha..." He paused, coming to the same conclusion I had. "How many?"

Derek looked extremely reluctant to answer, but seemed to understand that it wasn't really optional. "A pack of them," he admitted with a sigh, eyes carefully trained on Scott. "An alpha pack."

"All of them?" Stiles interjected with a frown as I released his arm, crossing both of mine over my chest as I glared at Derek. "How does that even work?"

"I hear there's some kind of a leader. He's called Deucalion." He paused, purposefully not meeting my lethal gaze. "We know they have Boyd and Erica. Peter, Isaac and I have been looking for them for the last four months." Rage reared it's ugly but familiar head in my gut, and my gums tingled, not with hunger, but with extreme animosity.

In the blink of a human eye, Derek was against the wall, my forearm braced across his throat. His eyes glowed red and he snarled on instinct, but I couldn't have cared less. "You didn't think that was something I might have needed to know?" I snarled at him furiously, and with one almighty shove I was thrust backwards, having to steady myself to stop from tripping.

"I knew if you knew, you'd run straight to your little boyfriend," he defended himself, teeth half their potential size.

"If I'd known, I could have done something."

"Like what?"

"I guess we won't know since you _didn't _tell me."

"I'm under _no_ obligation to tell you _anything_."

"Doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it, you pathetic excuse for an alpha."

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe if you weren't such an asshole, your little betas would still be here-" I was cut off by a fist slamming into my jaw. Head snapping to the side, I took the hit like a champ, merely spitting out the mouthful of blood, barely paying attention as Stiles exclaimed loudly from behind us. I heard Scott hold him back, but didn't spare a moment to look back. "That wasn't nice," I chastised with barely concealed contempt.

"Maybe if you weren't so reckless and immature, you wouldn't have gotten bitten and murdered those innocent people," he snapped back, and with an indignant roar I flung myself at him, moving fast enough to land one knee to his gut, then grab his head and bring it down on the same place.

The might alpha grunted as darted back, taking a second to regroup before he charged. He swung at my head again, but I ducked it easily, disappearing from sight only to reappear behind him. He'd anticipated this, kicking back and taking my feet out from under me.

I landed on the ground, my brow connecting with the rotted wood of the bottom step, splitting the skin and making blood drip into my eyes. With a growl I threw myself back on my feet, swinging my arm around and grinning viciously as it landing at the wolf's temple. His head snapped to the side, but he was otherwise unaffected. "You hit like a vampire," he growled, throwing a punch at my lower gut.

I sidestepped the attack, slapping him upside the head. "And you move like a werewolf," I said, once again slipping out of his reach, much faster than he could hope to be. "So I'd say we're pretty evenly matched."

"That's _enough!"_

Both of us stopped, turning to look at Scott who had an uncharacteristically stern look on his face.

"Stop squabbling like children," he snapped, voice like steel. I glanced at Derek, who had an unhappy scowl on his face. I hissed at him warningly before darting to Stiles' side, wiping the blood from my eyes off on the sleeve of my jacket. "Say you do find them Derek, how do you deal with an alpha pack?" he asked once he was sure we weren't going to rip each others jugulars out.

"With all the help I can get," he replied stonily, dabbing at his split lip.

"Where is she?" We all turned to look at Isaac with wide, surprised eyes. "Where's the girl?"

There was a beat.

"What girl?"


	34. Control

_And all the kids cried out "please stop, you're scaring me"_

_I can't help this awful energy_

_Goddamn right you should be scared of me_

_Who is in control?_

Control - Halsey

* * *

"Okay," Stiles muttered bracingly, wandering across the room, absently patting his pockets. "Wallet, wallet, wallet," he mumbled, caramel eyes sweeping his desk.

"In the jeans in your hamper," I supplied from where I was lounged across his bed, halfheartedly completing the homework set by the new English teacher. I would usually compel my way out of it, but I knew Stiles had to do high school properly at least once – or for the first time, as it were – and it was only fair that I did the work with him.

"What are you now?" he sputtered once he'd dug the wallet out from under his old clothes. "Psychic?"

"Observant," I corrected, throwing a spare pen in his direction, purposefully missing by a few inches but enjoying the way he flinched. "Are you sure you want to go to a party?" I asked after a beat, peering at him through the soft glow of his lamp. "You _could _stay here and make out with me." His heart stuttered, and a heart-wrenchingly torn expression appeared on his face. I grinned up at him impishly. "Maybe more."

He swallowed, pupils blown as he stared at me.

"No," I told him with a laugh, rolling my eyes at his eagerness. "I know Scott needs to get out, and to be brutally honest, so do you."

"But your idea sounded so much better," he muttered with a frown. I smiled, my attitude switching to something more encouraging.

"_Go_," I insisted. "Have fun, be a teenager while you still can; make terrible choices."

His face scrunched up as he processed my words. "Shouldn't you be telling me to make _good_ choices?"

I snorted indelicately, rolling my eyes at him fondly. "I'm not your mother. Have fun. Go wild. Just know that if you come back smelling intimately like someone else's perfume, I'll track the bitch down and rip her – or his – heart out of their ass."

"Or _his_-_what_?" he asked in a high pitch, sounding alarmed.

I looked up at him flatly. "You know I don't discriminate," I reminded him with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, but-come on," he squeaked indignantly.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find Derek even the slightest bit attractive." Stiles flushed and refused to answer, spluttering helplessly while I merely smirked knowingly, pleased with the reaction I'd gotten. "_Go_," I insisted, having had enough of teasing him.

"You'll just stay here?" he asked with a worried frown.

"I'll probably go for a run to the hospital, stock up on blood," I told him with a reassuring nod. "I'll survive a few hours without you, I promise."

He seemed reluctant, but I knew how he was looking forward to the party. He hadn't really done anything except spend time with Scott and I all summer. He needed human interaction, even I could tell. With a final groan he stepped forwards, leaning down to press his lips against mine, pecking me sweetly before turning and heading for the door. "I'll text you," he swore over his shoulder.

"Don't you dare," I called back playfully, and he grumbled unintelligently under his breath as he descended the stairs, the front door clicking shut quietly and his Jeep starting up in the driveway.

I couldn't be bothered going all the way to my house to change, so I had a quick shower in Stiles' bathroom, using the bottle of shampoo I kept in there for times such as these, and a bar of his soap, enjoying the faint smell of cinnamon that drifted to my nose. I dried using a fresh towel, changing into last night's jeans, one of Stiles' band shirts and one of his comfortable, worn flannels. I borrowed a pair of his socks, slipping my feet into my boots and quickly braiding my hair so it was out of my way for the run.

I locked the door behind me, using the key Stiles had given me, telling me that he knew I'd be able to get in anyway, but he didn't want me picking and/or breaking the locks of his house. I kept to the backroads, heading towards the west, where the hospital sat upwind.

I was only three blocks away when my phone rang. Assuming it was Stiles, I pulled it free of my pocket and held it to my ear, smiling exasperatedly as I answered, "darling, it really is sad that you can't go an hour without speaking to me. _Sweet_, but sad."

"Gross," the familiar voice of Isaac Lahey rang through the speaker, and I cringed, wishing I'd looked at the caller ID before opening my mouth. "I'm not your spastic boyfriend."

"Good, you wouldn't last two minutes with me," I growled back with a scowl, wishing he could see the lethal glint in my green eyes.

"_Ooh_," he responded cheekily. "Challenge accepted."

"Go suck Derek's dick," I snapped in reply, then frowned, wondering why I'd sexualised Derek twice in one night. In the end I decided I didn't care, I may not have liked the asshole, but I wasn't so ignorant to admit he wasn't slightly attractive. Then again, every reference I'd made _had_ had gay connotation. Bloody hell, I'd be a psychiatrist's wet dream.

"Speaking of Derek," Isaac deflected smoothly. "He wants you to take the north-west."

"And do what with it?" I asked, irritated. I didn't like being told what to do.

He replied tightly, sounding just as irritated. "Try and catch the scent of the alpha pack," he responded. "He thinks he caught a weird scent near the old well a few miles north of town, but he needs more feet on the ground. Unless you're too busy romancing your human lover."

"I'll be there in two minutes," I responded with a snarl of annoyance. He laughed snidely as he hung up, and with a growl I changed directions, heading further north to complete my task.

The woods were comforting. I liked the way the shadows clung to everything, and how the world felt like it was standing still. I didn't run, keeping my hands behind my back so I wouldn't rub my scent on anything. I stepped over logs, keeping my eyes on the ground in case I found any hint of prints in the soft earth.

After only five minutes, I found the scent they'd described, and it wasn't what I'd been hoping it would be. "Goddammit Kol," I hissed under my breath, eyeing the expensive boot print in the dirt and the accompanying smell of liquor and blood that was stained onto him and would probably never fade.

"Find anything?"

I spun around, narrowing my eyes at Derek, who'd managed to sneak up on me while I was distracted. I inconspicuously stepped onto the print, destroying the evidence of my vampire friend (I use that term loosely). "No," I lied easily. "I can smell something, but I don't think it's the pack."

"Yeah," the alpha nodded, green eyes scanning the shadows. "Smells more vampire than anything."

"Nomad?" I suggested, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an indifferent eyebrow.

"Maybe."

I assessed him through the dark, peering at him closely. "How's the nose?" I asked with a mean smirk, making him glare at me amusingly.

"Healed," he responded curtly.

"That's too bad."

He looked like he wanted to make a snarky comment back, but my phone rang, the sound piercing the quiet of the still forest. Not keen to make the same mistake twice, I checked the caller ID, once again disappointed as I found my boyfriend was not the one on the other end.

I didn't answer Kol's call, instead pocketing my phone and turning back to Derek. "Ordinarily I'd love to stay and chat," I told him falsely, sending him a sneer that he too happily returned. "But I have matters to attend to."

He didn't bother responding, merely sending me a final sneer and watching me as I left, blending into the shadows with practised, or perhaps instinctual, ease.

Kol was lounging in the kitchen, feet kicked up on the bench, wine glass full of heated O-positive in his hand, swirling the ruby liquid like a pretentious asshole. "What?" I asked in a clipped tone as soon as I was fully in the room, the light above us the only light in the house.

"That's a strange way to say hello," he chirped, leaning his head backwards over the back of the chair, smirking broadly at me like he knew something I didn't. I'd be worried that he _did_ know something I didn't, if it wasn't for the fact that he _always_ looked that way. My lip curled as I strode passed them, my hip purposefully bumping into his skull with a loud crack, making him flinch but otherwise not react. I opened the fridge, picking out my own bag and biting off the stopper, wrapping my lips around the 'straw' and drinking deeply. "And I'm well, since you _didn't_ ask."

"You rang?" I prompted him coldly, and he shot me an unimpressed expression that rolled off my back with ease.

"Yes, we need more whiskey," he told me, taking a long, irritating pause to sip at his drink. "The good stuff, none of that modern-day watered down shit. And a few bottles of wine would do nicely also. Anything from 1820 or before."

"You're giving me the grocery list, _why_?" I asked dangerously, my tone like ice.

"You're the woman of the house, yes?" he replied in pure condescension.

My eyebrows raised as I stared at him incredulously, marvelling at his sheer nerve. "First of all," I began darkly, stepped forwards to violently knock his feet off the bench, glaring down at him angrily. "Never call me _woman_ again. Secondly, you can buy your own fucking alcohol. And Thirdly," I stopped, not having a third point. "You're a fucking dip-shit," I finally settled with a furious glare.

Kol snorted in vague amusement, lips twisting in what I supposed could be called a smirk. "You're grasping at straws, woman."

Deciding the broken bones and internal bleeding a fight with him would entail weren't worth the slight satisfaction of pointlessly striking the handsome vampire in the nose, I took the higher road, merely knocking his glass from his hand, watching apathetically as it smashed to the tiled floor, blood splashing across the white surface.

"What were you doing in the woods?" I asked curtly, leaning back against the counter and picking up my own snack, sipping on it nonchalantly as he gazed forlornly down at his dropped meal.

"I wasn't aware I was on house arrest," he countered smartly, and I rolled my eyes at his cheek. "If you _must_ know, I took a lovely young lady out for a stroll in the moonlight."

"And will I be finding this lovely young lady's corpse halfheartedly buried in a mulch pile sometime in the morning?"

He had the audacity to look affronted. "I may not have many good qualities, but let it never be said I don't uphold my end of agreements." He crossed his arms over his chest, peering up at me with intelligent eyes. "You will not find any blood-drained bodies during my stay here."

"And how long will that be?" I asked, swallowing a mouthful of blood and loving the way it made my body simply hum with energy.

"A few weeks, give or take."

I watched him carefully. "You're only agreeing to this because you know a spike in disappearances will alert Klaus to your location," I accused, practically grinding my teeth together as I watched his smirk widen.

"Catch on quick, don't you love?" he jested, and with a final snarl of annoyance I flung my almost empty blood bag at him, heading for the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind me in a small act of defiance.

* * *

I was just rubbing on body lotion when I heard the familiar rumble of the Jeep's engine heading down my street. I glanced at the clock, frowning as I saw it was well past two in the morning. We had school the next day, and while _I _could function on little-to-no sleep, my boyfriend wasn't of the same breed, as it were.

"Stiles?" I asked, appearing at the door and pulling it open, raising an eyebrow at him as he all but leaped up my front stairs. "You should be in bed. Human teenagers need at least nine hours of sleep to-"

"Stop talking."

His mouth crashed onto mine, his palms cupping my face. I gasped in surprise at the contact, but didn't for a moment recoil, instead leaning in to the kiss, moaning quietly as his tongue flicked out to brush against the seam of my lips. I was all too happy to let him in, and he barely had to nudge me before I was walking backwards, vaguely hearing the sound of the front door click closed, leaving us scrambling in the dark, not able to get enough of each other.

His hands slid down from my face, running over my neck and just barely skimming my chest, making me lean into him desperately as he continued on to my lower back, running down over my ass and digging in at my thighs, using the leverage to lift me up.

I was shocked by his strength, but it only made me more breathless, as I happily wrapped my legs around his back. His hands trailed back to the front of my thighs, and my robe fell open, leaving me covered by nothing more than my soft cotton lingerie. When Stiles discovered this he moaned loudly, tongue stroking mine with renewed fire, fingers trailing down the smooth expanse of pale skin.

I ran my own hands through his hair, nipping at his lower lip and rocking my hips into his, swallowing his groan when I brushed up against the hard outline in the front of his jeans. "Stiles," I all but whined, rocking into him again, loving the way he practically whimpered into my lips as I tugged at his roots.

The lights flicked on, and the spell was broken.

"Well, well, well," that familiar British accent sang as Stiles pulled away from me to stare at the newcomer in sheer bewilderment, but not moving from the way he was pressed against me but wincing as the light hurt his unadjusted eyes. "What do we have here? Beauty and his beast?"

I growled over Stiles' shoulder, making a rude gesture with my hand as I pressed my forehead to the human's collarbones. "Stiles," I began with a growl, eyes slid shut as though it would reverse time. "This is Kol; Klaus' younger brother."

Stiles' heart, although already hammering, stuttered and he looked at Kol with raised eyebrows. "Um-hi," he muttered, breathing uneven and heavy, lips gloriously swollen. I could tell he was confused, the surprise slowly breaking through the haze of lust.

"I know I've been daggered for over a century, but _surely_ it's not socially acceptable to fuck your sixteen year old boyfriend in the foyer of your house," Kol said bluntly, and Stiles winced. Finally realising I was still wrapped around the kid like a pretzel, I unwound my legs from his waist, dropping gracefully to the floor. Instantly Stiles' hands came to my robe, moving it so it covered my lingerie, tying the sash to secure it.

"Go away," I ordered the Original through clenched teeth.

"What's the magic word?"

I was angry, but I wasn't stupid enough not to go along with his pathetic games. "_Please_," I spat the word as though it tasted like acid.

He smirked contently, turning around and wandering back into the dark depths of my house, off to do God knows what.

"Hold on tight," I murmured to Stiles.

"What?" he asked, but we were moving before I could answer. In the blink of an eye we were in my room, Stiles stepping away from me on shaky legs, holding a palm to his head. "That was a lot to process in a three minute window," he muttered with a grimace, pressing his free palm to his chest where his heart continued to thump.

"I was going to tell you," I told him as soon as he'd recovered. "He's only here for a short time, laying low, keeping off Klaus' radar. If there's anything I can relate to, it's that. So I couldn't say no. Also of course I was terrified he was decapitate me – literally – if I did. I'm sorry."

He still seemed reeling from it all, and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Did you guys ever...?"

I stared at him blankly for a long time until I finally understood what he wasn't saying. "God no," I hissed, grimacing like the very idea disgusted me, which it sort of did. "No, absolutely not. Our relationship has been, and always will be, strictly platonic." I froze, a terrible idea dripping over me. "You don't actually think I'd ever-"

"No," he shook his head instantly, denying the thought I'd only gotten half out. "Of course not."

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you immediately," I said meekly, eyes dropping to my feet ashamedly.

Stiles sighed, and didn't say anything for a long time. Eventually I couldn't handle the silence, and I had to glance up in hopes it would tell me what he was thinking. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" he asked, sounding vulnerable in a way I wasn't sure I liked. "You don't have to keep anything from me. No matter what it is."

"I know," I whispered, tangling my hands together to distract myself.

"I-" he looked like he wanted to say something, but seemed to realise we weren't exactly alone – there was a vampire somewhere in the house who could hear every single word. "I guess we won't be doing anything...like that...tonight," he finally settled on, a small smile lighting up his gorgeous face.

"Unless you're into exhibitionism," I dead-panned, and he choked, making me grin. "Come on," I murmured softly, feeling my brave self again and moving forwards, slipping my hand into his. "Let's get some sleep. You look like you need it. You can tell me all about the party in the morning."

He nodded, eyes suddenly drooping, exhausted at the mention of sleep. I led him across the room, opting to keep my satin robe on, lest I make Stiles uncomfortable. He crawled across the bed, toeing off his shoes before dropping onto the pillows, sighing contently. I smiled at him, flicking off the light before moving directly to his side, curling around him like a starfish.

Everything was as it should be, and with that in mind I drifted off to sleep with ease.

* * *

I was pretty sure Derek wasn't really meant to be on school grounds, but I couldn't do anything without getting glared at by the alpha werewolf, and I wasn't in the mood for petty arguments. "I don't see anything," the (physically) oldest member of the group sighed, looking bored with the whole conversation.

I leaned over to look at the bruising on the other girls' arms. I did think it made some kind of pattern, though I had no idea what it could possibly symbolise. "Look again," Scott sighed, and I got the feeling he was so desperate for it to be real because he wanted a connection with Allison again.

"How's a bruise going to tell me where Boyd and Erica are?"

"It's the same on both sides. Exactly the same."

"It's nothing."

Alison rolled her eyes and Lydia's lips pressed into a thin line. "Pareidolia," she muttered. "Seeing patterns that aren't there. It's a subset of apophenia."

The others blinked, her words sounding like gibberish. "They're trying to help," Scott muttered, turning to look Derek square in the eye. I rubbed a hand over my eyebrow, feeling a headache coming on and already wondering if I should just skip the rest of the school day and spend it eating curly fries with Stiles.

"These two?" Derek asked, arms crossed, clearly irritated. "This one, who used me to resurrect my psychotic uncle; thank you. And this one, who shot about _thirty_ arrows into me and my pack."

"You know you see a pattern, you just don't want to admit it because of the grudge you're holding against them," I grumbled, staring accusingly at the alpha.

Derek rounded on me furiously. "Don't even get me _started _on you," he growled and I raised my eyebrows, just daring him to continue. "Teen vampire with a past, falling in love with a human kid and killing a string of other innocent humans? You're a fucking head case."

"Okay, alright. Now come on," Stiles interjected calmly, tucking his hands under his chin. His heart sped up slightly as I looked at him, and I got the feeling this was his way of defending me. "No one died, alright?" Derek shot him a flat look and I threw in a wince. Stiles cringed regretfully. "_This time,_" he corrected awkwardly, folding his hands under his chin. "Look, there may have been a little maiming, a little mangling, but no death. That's what I call an important distinction."

"My mother died," Allison mentioned bitterly and I winced again, clicking my tongue uncomfortably.

"Your family's little honour code killed your mother. Not me."

"That girl's looking for Scott. I'm here to help _him_, not you."

"You wanna help? Find something real."

It was a fair enough ask, and with only a brief hushed conversation with Scott by the door, he was gone. Stiles sighed tiredly, dropping his head into his palms. "I'm sorry," the werewolf murmured, moving back to Allison's side, trying not to wince when she shifted away. "If it helps, I believe you."

"Even if you do, he's right, it doesn't tell us anything real."

They didn't hang around after that, Lydia didn't seem too psyched to be in a room with me, so she made an excuse to leave immediately, Allison close on her heels. It didn't bother me, I was happy to merely hold Stiles' hand until finally I had to let go when we slid into our seats in Economics.

"_Cooper_!"

The sound of my fake name being snapped from the front of the room made my head snap up from where I was tracing shapes into the front of my textbook out of pure boredom. "Yes, Coach?" I asked, raising a calm eyebrow and awaiting his answer even as all eyes in the class moved to me.

"Could you at least _pretend _to pay attention in my class?" he retorted snidely, and my lips twitched up amusedly. I put down my pen, folding my hands together under my chin and giving the teacher my full attention. "Thank you," he sneered, and I merely smiled back pleasantly. "The stock market is based on two principles. What are they?" Coach asked the class, peering out at the sea of students with little expectation for a serious answer. The class was silent, then Scott raised his hand from where he sat in the spot directly in front of me. "Yes McCall, you can go to the bathroom," he dismissed with a shrug.

"No Coach," Scott continued meekly. "I know the answer."

Coach started laughing, a full belly laugh, coming from his gut. I rolled my eyes, slipping down further in my seat and throwing a look across the isle to Stiles, who was covering his lips to conceal a smirk of his own. "Oh, you're serious?" he asked, finally sobering enough to speak.

"Yeah, it's risk and reward," the wolf responded, making the Coach's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

"_Wow_," he yelled, creeping toward the tan boy with a manic grin. "Who _are_ you? And what have you done to McCall? Don't answer that, I like you better." Coach turned back around, heading for the front of the room again. I took the opportunity to quickly scrunch up a piece of paper, forming a ball before throwing it violently at Scott's head.

He spun around, raising a confused eyebrow at me. "Teacher's pet," I whispered once I had his attention, and the kid rolled his eyes exasperatedly before turning back to the front. I thought my comment was hilarious; especially since he was literally a _puppy_.

"Does anybody have a quarter?" Coach continued, eyes sweeping the class.

Stiles moved, digging in his pocket for the requested change. I wasn't paying much attention, but a moment later the class went deathly silent, and I followed everyone's gaze to the condom packet that sat on the ground in the isle between us.

"Stilinski, I think you, uh, dropped this," he said stiltedly, reaching down to pick up the packet, yellow writing clearly spelling out 'XXL Condom' on the front. I pressed my lips together to keep in a guffaw, my eyes watering with the effort it took to stay serious. I didn't want to embarrass the kid any more than he already was. Those familiar red blotches appeared on his cheeks as he stared at the offending item with pure horror. "And congratulations," the man-child leered, Stiles' heart speeding up in his chest as he sunk in his seat, no doubt wishing to spontaneously combust.

Scott stared at his best friend expectantly, unable to help himself from peeking over his shoulder at me. I smirked back when I caught sight of his eager expression, merely raising my eyebrows at him suggestively until he turned back around.

"Get the quarter in the mug: win the reward," Coach continued, moving to the front of the room again. He placed the mug on the floor, bending down and tossing the quarter into it with what could only be practised ease. The class clapped, and with an eye roll I leaned back in my chair, thoughts on a recovering Stiles. He powered on, lecturing the class on risk and reward, starting with Danny before moving to Scott.

Stiles' eyes slid over to me, and he flushed when he realised I was already looking at him. My lips pulled up into a smirk, and he grumbled unintelligently under his breath as he turned back to face the front, suddenly taking up Coach's offer of the game, as more of a distraction than anything else.

Throwing himself into the challenge, he readied himself to throw the quarter, not noticing when the door opened and the familiar face of his father entered the room.

I could tell something was wrong instantly, the look on his lined face was solemn. "Stiles," the man said grimly.

"Yeah Coach, I got it," he replied confidently.

"Stiles," he repeated, finally getting his son's attention. The whole thing put me on edge, and I leaned up out of my chair. Stiles, noticing my movement, turned to face me, holding out a hand gently. I knew what the gesture meant; he wanted me to stay put. Deciding to listen to the kid, I sat back down in the chair, keeping my ear on the conversation happening out in the hall.

One thing, I found as I listened, was certain.

This couldn't lead to anything good.

* * *

Stiles slid into the seat opposite me, hands immediately moving to the table, tapping an uneven beat onto the surface. "Yes?" I asked, looking up from my book to raise an expectant eyebrow.

"I need to ask you something," he told me bluntly, heart racing in his chest as he watched me warily.

Instantly on guard, I peered up at him cautiously. "Is this about Heather?" I asked gently, reaching across the table to wrap my hand around his. That seemed like the right thing to do. Humans found contact comforting, didn't they?

His eyes glazed over for a long minute, before he cleared his throat and shook his head. "Sort of," he admitted with a sigh, moving his hand so our fingers intertwined and held them in front of us, staring down at them like he was expecting them to answer. "You know how she went missing?"

"I heard you talking to your dad," I revealed, though he probably already knew that, he merely nodded and frowned.

"I was thinking maybe, you could talk to – I mean, you don't have to, but you could-"

"You want me to talk to Kol," I cut him off, not pulling away but frowning myself. It hadn't really occurred to me before then. A young girl goes missing from a party? That had 'troublemaker Original' written all over it.

"It's no secret that I don't trust the guy, however it's not my only theory," he told me softly, scooting his metal chair closer to the table, ducking his head to meet mine over the surface. "I think, providing it _isn't_ Kol, maybe the alpha pack took her."

It was also a plausible theory, one that would definitely make life just that little bit easier for me. Still, I had to work all possible angles. "Why would they do that?" I asked gently, making sure I wasn't overheard.

"To turn her, obviously," he shrugged, though there was a sliver of pain in his eyes as he spoke so casually of his missing friend. "Derek said it works best with teenagers."

"Okay," I nodded, my mind racing as I made plans. "Well, I'll go home and talk to Kol, see what he says – or how full of shit he is – and maybe Scott could join Derek's pack to look for-"

"We have a plan," he interjected, and though I shouldn't have been surprised, I raised a shocked eyebrow. "Scott and I are taking Isaac to Deaton, we think he's our best bet at getting him to remember what happened with the pack."

"When's this all happening?"

"Straight after school," he answered quickly. "You could go talk to Kol, then circle back and meet us at the Animal Clinic?"

I hesitated, not really in the mood for either of those things. Still, I knew it was a good plan, and I knew I couldn't tell him no. Not when his old friend's life could be on the line. "If Kol has her," I began seriously, leaning forwards even further as I stared into his caramel eyes, desperate for him to see my sincerity. "I'll get her back."

"And if she's already dead?" he asked, a wince crossing his face as he swallowed thickly.

"Then I'll make him pay," I vowed, leaning forwards and pecking him once on the lips – I never was all about public displays of affection – and throwing him what I hoped was a comforting smile before shoving my book into my bag and pushing my chair back, heading straight for the door.

This was important, but also, if I was honest, any excuse to skip school was a good one.

I got home to find that Kol had a stripper in the living room. Not exactly a prude, this didn't faze me. When I caught sight of the angry red bite marks covering her neck and waist, well, I didn't take it too well.

"What the _bloody hell_ are you doing?" I asked, not able to help my native accent slipping into my voice.

Kol wasn't bothered by my outburst, and the pretty little half-naked redhead was so heavily compelled that she didn't even flinch. "You said I could play as I pleased," he told me as though the whole subject simply bored him. "This is me playing," he said, gesturing to the girl with a blood covered hand and a wicked grin. "And I am _very_ pleased."

Some kind of terrible music was playing from my modest sound system, and I angrily jabbed the correct button, turning the machine off and making the room deathly silent. "We need to talk," I told him seriously, though he barely batted an eyelid.

"Yes we do," he purred, waving his hand casually, the girl obediently giving him a bloody pat on his bare stomach before turning and disappearing down the hall. "Now Juliet, here we are, world at our fingertips, and you've decided to turn to celibacy and lawfulness. I must say, I'm severely disappointed in you-"

"That's not what I want to talk about," I hissed fiercely, only serving to widen his smirk. I took a deep, calming breath, glaring at him only slightly before I continued. "A girl went missing," I spoke flatly, watching him closely for any hint of remorse, although I knew it was hopeless.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling," he leered, and I suppressed a huff of irritation.

"A few inches shorter than me, blonde hair, pretty face and – oh yeah, she was _with my boyfriend when it happened_."

He looked to the ceiling, whether he was remembering to rolling his eyes, I wasn't sure. "I feel the strangest sense of deja-vu," he hummed bitterly. "Haven't we already had this conversation?"

"We won't have to keep repeating it if you'd just-"

In an instant I was pinned against the wall, Kol's fingers wrapped around my throat. Reacting on instinct, I placed my palms to his chest and shoved, but it was like trying to tear down the Eiffel Tower for all the good it did. I tried to breathe in, but he only pressed harder, lifting me up with ease so my feet dangled in the air, kicking back uselessly against the wall.

"If I just _what_?!" he roared, eyes flooded with blood, fangs protruding from his lips.

I'd made a mistake.

I wouldn't exactly call myself a pacifist by any means, but I could tell you what, I sure as hell wasn't going to throw punches at an Original vampire; the thing monsters got nightmares about. I wanted to apologise, simply to get him the hell off me. We'd known each other a long time, I'd even call us friends. But looking into his eyes, I didn't doubt for a second that he'd take off my head without remorse.

"I don't like being told what to do," he growled, squeezing even tighter, making my head feel like it was going to explode.

The line was familiar, it was one I'd used countless times before. I'd forgotten where I'd learned it from, but in that moment I remembered clearly.

Finally, just when black spots began to dance in my usually perfect vision, he let go. I caught myself before I could fall, using the wall as support when my knees shook while I recovered. I sucked in air, because although it was entirely necessary for me to live, it was sure as hell uncomfortable without it.

I glanced up at Kol, who was staring down at me apathetically, a small smirk on his lips like nothing had even happened. I clenched my teeth, seething, though I knew it was pointless. I wasn't going to get sympathy, let alone an apology.

"I trust our previous agreement stands?" he said, in a tone that made it perfectly clear he _wasn't_ asking.

I knew it was stupid to say anything but yes, but I had to do something. I had to be sure, for Stiles' sake. "Did you take the girl?"

His eyes hardened and, not able to help myself, I flinched. Something in his gaze looked both pleased and displeased, and he took a step back, giving me some space. "I didn't take the girl," he assured me, turning around and not casting another look over his shoulder as he disappeared after his new stripper friend.

* * *

"What's happening?" I asked tonelessly, Stiles jumping violently as I startled him while the present wolves merely threw me glances of acknowledgment. "An ice bath?" I continued, my eyes shooting to the good doctor, who stood in the doorway with Isaac, speaking with him in low tones. Was he doing what I thought he was doing?

"It's like being hypnotised?" Isaac spoke, nodding at me halfheartedly, too focused on the conversation to bother with a proper greeting.

"Exactly," the dark skinned man answered, stepping out into the sterile light of the room. "You'll be half transformed," the man told him quietly. "It'll let us access your unconscious mind."

Isaac crouched beside the bath full to the brim with ice, peering at it hesitantly. "How slow does his heart rate need to be?" Scott asked with a concerned frown.

"Very slow."

"How _slow_ is very slow?" Derek asked with the usual unhappy grimace.

"Nearly dead," he admitted, making everyone stare at him in something akin to horror.

"We could be coffin buddies," I chimed from my place, enjoying the way everyone, especially Stiles, frowned at the thought. He automatically stepped closer to me, leaning up against the bench I was sat on, my jean-clad leg brushing his arm. He made an enthused humming noise as he spotted the box of elbow-length gloves sitting beside me, eagerly pulling one out and rolling it down his arm.

"It's safe though, right?" Isaac questioned, looking up at the doctor wearily.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

"No," he muttered, turning back to his awaiting bath. "Not really."

The material of the glove smacked loudly, making everyone's heads turn to face the pair of us. "What?" Stiles ask defensively, one gloved arm held in the air. All it took was raised eyebrows from an irritated Derek, and he was grumbling under his breath exasperatedly, pulling off the glove and tossing it carelessly in the corner.

"Look, if it feels too risky you don't have to do this," Derek said in a surprising show of care.

Isaac hesitated before reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. My eyes raked the boy's physique, appreciating the hard lines of his body.

A hand slapped against my shoulder, and my head snapped to Stiles, who was glaring at me in annoyance. "What?" I asked, though I knew the answer. "I may be dead," I muttered to him, eyes flicking to the shirtless wolf. "But I'm not blind."

"I trust you know the process," the vet said to me, pulling my attention from Stiles.

Raising an eyebrow, I nodded. "Yeah, done this a few times over the years," I admitted, "but usually the compulsion thing worked enough on it's own."

"Good," he told me, face turning serious. "You'll be the one communicating with him."

"What?" Stiles spoke up, frowning at the doctor.

"Her powers of persuasion can be used purely vocally."

"But it doesn't work on werewolves," Scott spoke, glancing at Isaac who looked wary to say the least. "Right?"

"True, but even without her abilities, she's hypnotic. I'm sure Stiles can attest to that," he told them with something I would _almost_ describe as a smirk, and the freckle-faced kid flushed, pulling uncomfortably at his collar. Rolling my eyes, I watched intently as Isaac readied himself, taking a deep breath before lowering himself into the ice bath.

Scott and Derek appeared on either side of him, gripping his broad shoulders with strong hands.

Without further fanfare, the wolf was shoved under the water. Isaac was barely able to handle more than a minute under the ice before he burst back out, both Derek and Scott straining to hold him still. "Hold him." I peeled off my leather jacket, tossing it onto a bench and reaching into the water to help them. "Hold him," Deaton repeated, and I glared at him, palms pressed to the werewolf's icy chest. Easy for him to say, considering he wasn't doing any of the work.

"We're _trying_," Derek snapped back, meaning I didn't have to.

Finally, after a long few minutes, Isaac went still. I pulled my arms from the water, crouching down beside the tub, watching the wolf closely. The doctor tapped my shoulder, and I leant forward, leaning over slightly so he didn't have to strain to hear me.

"Isaac," I began, staring at the unconscious boy, my voice saccharine with the compulsion. "Isaac, can you hear me?"

For a long minute he said nothing, and we frowned as one. Then, "Yes. I can hear you."

"Isaac, it's Juliet," I said, ignoring the way Stiles leant into me thoughtlessly, driven by pure instinct. He was wearing vervain, so I wouldn't be able to fully compel him, but my intoxicating voice alone was enough to draw him in, like a poisonous flower, beautiful in appearance, but ultimately deadly. "I going to ask you some questions, Isaac," I all but sang, eyes locked onto his unresponsive face. "Can you answer them for me?"

"Yes."

"The night you found Erica and Boyd," I began gently, absently registering that my pupils were dilating out of instinct. "I want you to think back to that night, Isaac. Remember everything vividly. See everything in your mind, as though you were there once more."

"I don't want to do that," he said, trembling in the water, beginning to struggle against the hands holding him. "I don't want to do that."

"Isaac," I breathed calmly, ignoring the way the lights flickered violently. "Isaac, it's okay. Relax little wolf, they're only memories." Finally, he stopped thrashing, becoming still amongst the ice. "Come on Isaac. Remember that night, remember finding Erica and Boyd. Can you tell me what you see?" He was quiet, eyes rolling underneath his lids. "Is there a house? A landmark? Maybe a building?"

"It's not a house," he said blankly. "It's stone. M-marble."

"Good," I hummed, listening closely to his heart as it beat only once every few seconds. "What else, Isaac?"

"It's dusty; empty."

"Abandoned?" I guessed softly, but he began thrashing again, clutching to Scott and Derek like they were going to save him. "Relax little wolf," I sang, voice thick with compulsion and suggestion. He shook even harder but stopped clawing at the alpha's hands. "Relax..." Eventually he fell still once more, breathing deeply through his nose. "Isaac, tell us what you see."

"I hear him. He's talking about the full moon, about being out of control when the moon rises."

"And who's he talking to?" I probed gently. "Erica?"

"I think so, I can't see her...I can't see either of them."

"What else, Isaac?"

"They're worried; worried what they'll do during the moon. They're worried that they're going to hurt each other."

"If they're locked in together on the full moon they're going to tear each other apart," Derek murmured to us under his breath, a rare look of concern on his features.

"Isaac, it's very important that we find them _now_," I said as thickly as I could, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. "Can you see them?"

"No."

"Do you know what type of room it is? Are there any numbers? Any markers?"

He shot into an upright position with a loud gasp, staring unseeingly at the opposite wall. "They're here!" he shuddered in pure terror. "They're _here_. They see me, they've found me!"

"Sh..." I hushed him gently, though apparently a certain alpha didn't think my approach was helping (which was honestly rude, because out of the two of us, who _really_ had experience with hypnotism?)

"This isn't working," Derek snapped, shoving hard against the beta and growling down at him. "Tell me where you are!" he demanded roughly as Isaac gasped for breath.

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed at him, reaching out and placing a hand firmly against his smooth, wet chest, hoping to anchor him in some way. "Isaac," I tried again, only for Derek to cut me off.

"Where _are you_?"

"He's going to go into shock," Deaton implored, but Derek was too focused on getting the answers he needed.

"Isaac, where are you? What did you see?!"

"It's a vault!" he shouted desperately, thrashing in our hold. "It's a bank vault!"

"What happened?!" Derek shouted ruthlessly.

"They're dragging me...forcing me into a room," he whimpered sadly, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "And there's a body...on my God, it's Erica!" He was hysterical, arm breaking free and nearly clocking Scott in the mouth.

"Take him out now Juliet," Deaton murmured hurriedly, and I focused all of my energy on Isaac.

"Isaac, I'm going to count to three and you're going to wake up, you'll be with us again," I paused, watching as he nodded jerkily. "One...two...three!"

He snapped up, eyes shooting open as he stared across the room, breathing heavily. "I saw the name," he told us once he'd caught his breath, grasping the sides of the tub and pushing himself up. "It's Beacon Hills First National Bank," he said as they pulled him out, wrapping a blanket around his shivering form. "It's an abandoned bank and they're keeping them locked inside the vault." We were all silent, not knowing what else there was to say. It was clear he didn't remember his last words. "What?" he asked cluelessly.

"You don't remember what you said right before you came out of it, do you?" Stiles asked knowingly, tone painfully defeated. "You said that when they captured you they dragged you into a room and that there was a body in it."

Isaac paused. "What body?"

"You said it was Erica."

**A/N: Do you guys think I should change what category this is in? Should I put it in Teen Wolf/Vampire Diaries crossover? Please let me know, it's really bothering me. Hope you enjoyed this :)**


	35. Could Have Been Me

_Don't wanna live as an untold story _

_Rather go out in a blaze glory _

_I can't hear you, I don't fear you _

_I'll live now cause the bad die last_

_Dodging bullets with your broken past_

_I can't hear you, I don't fear you now_

_Wrapped in your regret_

_What a waste of blood and sweat_

Could Have Been Me – The Struts

* * *

"_How long will that take?"_

"_It's the internet, Derek. Minutes."_

It was rare for me to want to hurt Stiles, but by _God_ I did I want to smack him into another reality.

It was a little after sunrise, and I was sitting at Stiles' desk, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee as I read the words on the papers that were continuously spilling from the printer. Stiles let out a soft snore from behind me, and I took a moment to glance away from my task, eyeing him as he lay in a face-down position on the carpet that I was sure was in no way comfortable. My lips curved up as I watched him, murmuring something unintelligible under his breath. I took another sip of coffee, getting back to work after making sure Scott was still dead to the world.

The sounds of the Sheriff getting ready for the day finally stopped, and I looked up from what I was doing as he approached the door to his son's room. "Morning Jules," John greeted me with a small but warm smile.

"Sheriff," I nodded back with a matching grin. I was thankful for my increased endurance. I wouldn't have been able to handle a whole night of research plus school if I were human. I was used to it anyway; I'd been to college.

"Boys," he said louder, turning to stare expectantly at the unconscious kids. "Hey, time to wake up!" He sighed, shooting me an exasperated look that made me smother a giggle. "_Boys!_" he snapped, and they both startled awake with a gasp, floundering for a long minute. "I've gotta get to work," he continued after a moment. "You three: get to school."

He turned to leave, but Stiles shouted after him, "Dad! Heather?"

I frowned worriedly, peering over the mug at the older man, listening intently. "No, nothing yet," he told his son reluctantly, lowering his gaze almost ashamedly as he left.

We were quiet, letting Stiles process the news at his own pace. Finally he crawled to his feet, running his fingers down his pants and taking a deep, calming breath. "Ten hours and nothing," he grumbled, pointlessly kicking at the papers littering the floor.

"We're going to find something," Scott assured him gently.

"Finding something doesn't make Erica any less _dead,_" he bit back, violently reaching down to pick up some of the paper, gathering them in his hand. "Or Boyd any less about to _be _dead."

"We still have time."

"Is this whole remain-optimistic-in-the-face-of-complete-and-utter-disaster thing a part of the Be-A-Better-Scott-McCall-Program?" he snapped with a heavy frown.

"Not if it doesn't work," the wolf replied honestly.

Stiles sighed before answering reluctantly, "No, it works." He ran a hand through his hair, looking back at the papers in his grasp. Something caught his eye and his pulse spiked. He gasped, dropping the papers and sprinting from the room, calling his dad's name. I plucked the discarded paper from the air, peering down at the one that had changed things. There, clear as day, was a photograph of the criminal from the bank heist being arrested – by John Stilinski.

The Sheriff was suspicious about why we wanted to know the details of the heist, but Stiles beautifully spun some bullshit story about a local-modern history paper and a sudden interest in law enforcement. I severely doubted John believed a word of it, but he nonetheless he – albeit suspiciously – told us the robbers' plan before going off to work, a worried look in his kind eyes that wasn't for naught.

"We're going to need all the help we can get," Scott said as soon as the police cruiser had turned the corner, pulling out his phone and throwing his bag over his shoulder, pressing it to his ear as he moved towards the Jeep.

Stiles locked up the house while the beta spoke in low tones with Derek. "After school you should talk to the Original vampire currently crashing in your spare room," he said, coming up beside me where I waited for him on the porch, spinning his keychain on his finger.

"You don't seriously want to ask _Kol_ for help," I said with a disgusted frown at the mere thought.

"I don't have to _like_ it," he mumbled back, glancing to where Scott was still murmuring into the phone. "But we could use all the help we can get."

A thought occurred to me as we were waiting, something I hadn't really considered until just then. My brows pulled together and I turned to look at Stiles warily. "Stiles," I began, and he hummed in acknowledgement, looking over at me expectantly. "Why did you have a condom in your pocket?"

Stiles choked for a second, the sound drawing Scott's attention before he went back to his conversation on the phone. "Full disclosure?" he asked after a beat, and my eyes narrowed suspiciously as his heart sped up.

"Yes," I bit out, watching him cautiously.

"You know the girl who went missing? Heather?"

I had a feeling I wasn't going to like where this was going. "Yes," I repeated.

"She kind of..." he coughed, pulling at his collar nervously. "She sort of...propositioned me."

My eyebrows raised as I watched him turn red. "Propositioned you _how_?" I asked, my tone deadly. He didn't seem to want to answer. "Stiles," I barked, and he actually jumped at the sound.

It was like the dam broke, and suddenly he couldn't shut up. "She kissed me, okay? I didn't kiss back, or anything like that, but it was her birthday so I went with her to be kind and ask for an explanation, and she kept saying how she didn't want to be a seventeen year old virgin – which is fair enough. And I couldn't find the words until she finally handed me the condom and started undoing my pants. I swear, I instantly pushed her back and told her I had a girlfriend, and she stopped immediately. She felt really bad and seemed like she was going to cry so she asked me to leave. I went back upstairs and that was the last I saw of her. That's it, I swear, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

He took a deep breath, not having taken one during his rant.

I narrowed my eyes at the human kid, not quite sure how I felt about the whole thing. "Oh," I finally said, turning my gaze to my feet as I processed his words. "Why?"

"I don't know, I guess she somehow found me sort of attractive and probably knew I'd be easy-"

"I mean why didn't you _tell_ me?" I cut him off, not in the mood to hear another rant.

He had the decency to look ashamed. "To be honest, I just didn't want you to be mad."

Now it was my turn to feel ashamed. I wanted Stiles to be able to tell me everything and anything. I didn't want him to hold back because he was worried about my reaction. "Why'd you keep the condom?" I asked, deciding not to go into the other, deeper side of things, instead keeping things somewhat light.

He turned an even darker shade of red. "I thought it could, I don't know...come in handy...?"

I decided I wasn't mad at him. He stopped things before they got too far and he came clean about it. It would be petty of me to hold a grudge. I allowed an amused grin to spread across my lips, taking a step closer to the kid, making his heart stutter. "Just so you know," I murmured to him quietly, a mischievous smirk on my face and I leaned into him. "I'm a vampire, so condoms aren't necessary."

His heart sped up even further, and he swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing in his throat. "But-"

"Not necessary at all," I cut him off, smirking widely as I reached up to press my lips against his. It was more than a kiss of affection. It was a kiss of dominance, one designed to remind him exactly who he belonged to. His breath hitched as I flicked my tongue against his lips, and he all but melted into me, putty in my hands.

I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands at his neck, making him groan. I had the sudden urge to skip school and stay home all day, show him exactly what being mine looked like.

A throat cleared from the driveway, but Stiles didn't pay any attention, leaning further into me and tilting his head, trying to deepen the kiss. The throat cleared again and I decided, as nice as the kiss was, I didn't feel like having Scott watch on. So with a final flick of my tongue I pulled back, smirking when the human followed me desperately.

"Are you done now?" Scott asked, more amused than anything.

"Cock-block," Stiles muttered under his breath, cheeks warm as he ducked his head and walked down the steps.

It was good to have friends.

* * *

I showed up at home that afternoon bearing gifts. I figured a bottle of aged scotch and a compelled coed would do the trick. I wasn't feeling exactly guiltless for snatching the girl on her way to her car, but I was confident that Kol wouldn't do any permanent damage to her. Nothing I couldn't undo, anyway.

"Is that a hint of irresponsibility I smell?" Kol asked, rounding the corner, looking as infuriatingly dashing as ever. His smirk widened as he caught sight of me in the doorway, arm thrown casually over the girl's shoulders, bottle of scotch in my free hand. "What do you want?" he asked, chocolate eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Why would I want anything?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, don't act naïve," he drawled, moving forwards and plucking the girl from my grasp, reaching down to sniff her neck. He hummed contently at her scent, grinning wickedly. "Though I must admit, as far as bribes go, this isn't terrible."

Without waiting for anything further he wandered into the lounge, pulling the hypnotised girl along with him as an afterthought. "Since you mention it, there _may_ be something you could do to help return the favour," I told him smoothly, moving to my side table and uncorking the scotch, filling two glasses generously before moving over to meet him where he stood examining the girl.

"Nothing's ever easy with you, is it?" he asked with an air of false irritation. I rolled my eyes, holding out a glass for him to take. He took a moment to sniff it cautiously, as though concerned I'd poisoned it or something equally ridiculous. "Well, go on with it then," he snapped impatiently, taking a sip and looking pleasantly surprised when he didn't swallow a mouthful of liquified vervain.

"I want to break into a bank."

His face lit up, eyes sparking with mischief. "Now we're _talking_," he grinned devilishly. "I knew fun-Juliet was hiding in there somewhere."

Okay, that one was on me. I probably shouldn't have opened with that. "It's abandoned, Kol," I corrected him, rolling my eyes once more.

His eyes narrowed again, more in confusion than anything. "Then why the _hell_ would you want to break in?"

"It's complicated," I hesitated.

"Well un-complicate it."

"There's an alpha pack in town and a few months ago they kidnapped two of my other werewolf friends – well, I say friends, but they're more acquaintances really – and we couldn't figure out where they were. But then their other friend and fellow beta, Isaac, found them and then escaped. They took his memories though, so we had to do a whole process to get them back – long story – and it turns out they're being kept in an abandoned bank in downtown. We have a plan to get them back, but we need all the help we can get to pull it off."

Silence.

"Your life is one of those annoying melodramatic shows that play on the television during the day," he sneered, and I couldn't argue with that, not when it was true.

"Look, if for no other reason, do it because you'll get some action from it." Kol's eyes glinted impishly. I scoffed, scowling at him unhappily. "Not like that, you bloody nymphomaniac," I snarled, glaring at him with contempt. "I mean you get to kill some alpha werewolves."

"No need to call names," he purred, letting a few drops fall into the dazed girl's mouth. He was silent for a long time, either contemplating my request or taking his time in order to irritate me. It was working. "Does this mean I get to be introduced to the family?" he asked, wagging his eyebrows at me cheekily.

"Are you going to help or not?"

"I'll help," he nodded, brushing the blonde's hair off her shoulder, running his fingers over the smooth skin her tank top revealed. "If only to cure the boredom this hell of a town seems set on inflicting on me."

I nearly sagged with relief. That had actually gone better than I'd expected it to. "Have your fun, we leave in an hour."

He grinned wolfishly, meeting my eyes as his fangs descended, slipping into the coed's thin flesh, blood dripping down onto her top.

I ignored the sounds of the girl's moans – both of pain and pleasure – coming from the guest room that Kol was holed up in. I took a shower, changing into dark clothing; black jeans and a simple dark blue blouse, throwing a black cardigan over it and tying my hair up into a practical ponytail. By the time I was slipping my combat boots on, Kol was back in the living room, compelling the girl to stay where she was until he got back.

"If Stiles finds your shiny new toy, I'm going to dagger you," I threatened sincerely.

"Well, if he does, I'll make sure to tell him who brought it to me wrapped in a bow," he sneered right back. I curled my lip at him but otherwise didn't comment, not in the mood for another occurrence of what happened in the kitchen only a day ago. "Why don't you buy a car?" he asked almost conversationally as we darted out into the night, keeping to the back streets as we ran to Derek's new address.

"Running's faster," I grunted, sidestepping a pedestrian who seemed startled when I brushed passed her, invisible to the human eye.

"If that was true you wouldn't let your little boyfriend drive you everywhere."

Okay, so _maybe_ I liked that Stiles offered to drive me everywhere, giving me an excuse to spend even more time with him. I sure as hell wasn't going to admit it out loud, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be to Kol if I did. "Shut up and don't run headfirst into a tree," I growled back, darting across the road, working my way into the shady downtown area where Derek and his pack now lived.

"That was _one_ time," he muttered back childishly, pointedly slipping around the trunk of a large oak. I snorted, unable to help the laugh as it bubbled up from my stomach.

It wasn't easy to look back on those first years as a vampire and laugh, but sometimes Kol reminded me that it wasn't _all _bad times. I needed to remember the good too.

"Are you sure this is it?" he asked doubtfully, eyeing the decaying building as we approached as though he was worried it would fall down on top of him.

I pushed up my sleeve, peering at the smudged letters of the address I'd written down. "Yep," I nodded, glancing to the left where a familiar Jeep sat on the curb, underneath a flickering streetlight. "This is it."

"Is this alpha friend of yours also a drug dealer?"

Again, I snorted amusedly as I gestured for him to follow me up. We took our time on the stairs, Kol forgoing the shady looking elevator in the corner with rusted doors and flickering lights. "Try and be nice," I murmured to him under my breath as we approached the top level, stopping in front of the large steel door that protected Derek's loft.

"I'm always nice," he retorted quietly, ensuring that, even with their advanced hearing, the people beyond the door wouldn't be able to hear.

I shot him an dubious look, but he didn't want to budge. "Also try not to maim or kill any of my friends." I paused, considering my own words. "Except Peter," I amended with a nod. "Feel free to dismember Peter."

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirked. "Now stop stalling and get it over with."

With a deep breath, I reached out and grasped the steel handle, pulling it back with one almighty shove. Stiles looked relieved to see me, and the rest peered at us warily, none more than Peter. "Who's he?" Derek asked with narrowed cobalt eyes, chin jerking in Kol's direction.

"You didn't _tell_ them?" I asked Stiles incredulously.

The kid shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, well – you see...what happened..."

"Kol Mikaelson," he introduced himself, mischievous grin firmly locked into place. "You may know me from my work pillaging and plundering across the western world? Or maybe you've heard my greatest hits as a world class torturer? Perhaps you know me by my other title, even," his eyes widened dramatically and he held his hands out like he was showcasing himself. "The Original vampire."

There was silence, and I couldn't help but take him down a notch. "'_One of_'," I corrected lazily, and he shot me a displeased glower.

"Do you _have_ to take that away from me?" he asked, turning to look at me in annoyance. I felt comfortable once again. Since our...tiff...in the kitchen, I'd been somewhat on edge, not convinced he wasn't going to turn around and decapitate me for looking at him the wrong way. Things felt normal again, however, and I was once again learning to deal with the knowledge of how easily he could end me, while simultaneously being his friend.

"You brought an _Original_ to our doorstep?" Peter asked furiously from where he stood by the window. "Are you _crazy_?"

"He's here to help," I told him calmly, rolling my eyes and smirking at the way his heart stuttered when Kol grinned.

"Help how?" Derek asked suspiciously.

"Well, he's one of the oldest and strongest vampires in the history of the world, and therefore pretty much a one-man army. So, we can probably start with basic defences," I turned to look at Kol with mock-seriousness. "Think you can handle that? Be our muscle for the evening?"

"Oh, I'll try to manage," he sneered in the wolves' direction.

"So what do you want as payment?" Peter asked through grit teeth, still staring at Kol like he was about to explode. "Surely you're not doing this out of the _goodness_ of your unbeating heart."

"He's doing it as a favour to me," I interjected, not wanting the Original to mention the lines I'd crossed getting him to tag along. I saw him smirk in my peripheral vision, but didn't move to acknowledge him in any way.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Derek questioned, eager to find any hole he could.

"What's he going to do?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and narrowing my eyes at the alpha. "Go running to the alpha pack and tell them everything?" Derek didn't look convinced. "Look, are you _really_ in a position to be turning away help?"

With a begrudging grunt he turned back to his plans. Peter inched away as we approached, retreating to the staircase in the corner and propping himself in the middle, keeping a wary eye on the older vampire.

"So," I continued, coming to a stop by Stiles' side and leaning into him out of pure instinct, relaxing as I breathed in his familiar scent. "What's the plan?"

"Okay," my human boyfriend began, pressing into me once before moving to the table before us, unravelling the floor plans he had prepared. "You see this?" he asked, pulling out a red marker and using it to point to a spot in the middle of the plans. "This is how they got in: rooftop air-conditioning vent. It leads down inside into the wall of the vault," he draw a circle around one of the squares on the paper. "Which is _here_. One of the robbers was lowered into this shaft, now that space is so small it took them twelve hours to drill into that wall, which is _stone_ by the way. Then throughout the rest of the night they siphoned the cash backup to the guys on the roof through that one little shaft in the wall. _Boom_."

"Can we fit in there?" Scott asked with a concerned frown.

"Yes we can, but very barely," Stiles answered.

"So I'll do it," I shrugged, making them glance up at me. "I'm the smallest out of all of us, if one of you just barely fits then it'll be plenty big enough for me."

"_But_," Stiles interjected, holding the red marker in the air. "They patched the wall back up so we're going to need a drill of some kind, I'm thinking maybe a diamond-"

"Forget the drill."

"Sorry?"

"If I go in first, how much space will I have?" Derek asked flatly, peering down at the plans with a frown.

"What do you think you're going to do, Derek? Are you going to punch through the wall?" Stiles asked dubiously, turning around to face the alpha with raised, skeptical eyebrows.

"Yes, Stiles, I'm going to punch through the wall," he responded condescendingly.

"Okay big guy, let's see that fist. Come on, big bad wolf," I slipped a hand over my mouth to contain my amused smirk as I recalled the fist time we'd ever met, and I'd called him the same thing. "See this?" he asked, pressing a hand close to Derek's tightly formed fist. "That's maybe three inches of room to gather enough force to punch through solid-"

Derek's fist slammed into Stiles' open palm, sending the boy back several steps, gasping in pain. I wanted to be angry at Derek, but I hadn't heard any bones break, so I figured I'd let it slide and just get my revenge in some petty way later on. "He can do it," Stiles announced with a quiet whimper, holding his no doubt aching hand close to his chest.

"I'll get through the wall."

"But who knows how many punches it'll take?" Kol spoke up, propped up casually against the opposite side of the table, peering at us all like he knew something we didn't, which was honestly pretty much Kol's default setting. "You're strong, but you're not strong enough to do it in one punch. Take too long, you'll draw attention and this whole thing will go very bad, very quickly."

"What do you suggest?" he bit back, probably not expecting him to have an answer.

"I'll go down first," he said in a tone that made it clear there was no room for argument. "I can do it in one with no problems. I could probably even do it more quietly too."

"But you don't know who is or isn't with us," Scott brought up with a worried frown.

"Well if you're quick to meet me down there, I'll pinky promise not to slaughter anyone until you arrive," he responded with obvious disdain, smirking condescendingly. "Now, who's following me down?"

Derek turned to look at Peter expectantly. The (now) beta was still sitting on the stairs, clearly hell-bent on staying out of Kol's way. "Don't look at me," he said innocently. "I'm not up to fighting speed. And honestly? With Isaac out of commission, you're not looking at very good odds for yourself."

"I'm supposed to just let them die?" Derek growled at his uncle.

"One of them's already dead."

"We don't _know_ that."

Peter scoffed, leaning forwards to stare at us imploringly. "Do I have to remind you what we're up against here? A _pack_ of alphas. All of them killers. And it's that's not enough to scare your testicles back into your stomach, then remember that two of them combine bodies to form one _giant_ alpha. I'm sure Erica and Boyd are sweet kids, they're gonna be missed," he said with zero heart, glancing into the distance uncaringly.

"Can someone kill him again, please?" Stiles drawled.

I grinned wickedly. "I volunteer," I was all too happy to say, and my boyfriend threw me a side-smirk.

"You're right, we are going up against killers," Derek said suddenly, eyeing his uncle with contempt. "But we've got a few of our own." He gestured towards Kol, who smirked widely when he noticed the attention was on him, cracking his knuckles loudly for show.

"Derek, seriously?" Peter powered on. "Not worth the risk."

We were quiet for a long moment. "What about you?" he asked, glancing to his left.

"Yeah, if you want me to come-" Stiles began, and I resisted the urge to shove my palm in my face.

"Not _you_," he snapped impatiently, shooting him a brief glare before focusing on Scott.

"I don't know about Erica," the beta began softly. "But if Boyd's still alive, we have to do something. We have to try."

"But?"

"Who's the other girl? The one locked in there with Boyd?"

"Well, sound like the sort of thing we'll have to find out for ourselves," I chimed, brushing my bangs off my face and turning to the boys. "We should get going, further into the moon we get, the harder it'll be to contain them."

"So I guess I'll just wait here?" Stiles asked dejectedly, frowning deeply and glancing at Peter warily. "With _him_?"

"The most important thing to us is that you're safe," I told him, taking a step closer and giving him my full attention.

"Not to me," Derek muttered from behind us.

"Or me," Kol added unnecessarily.

I grit my teeth and exhaled sharply, trying to contain my annoyance. "You know what I mean," I finally murmured back. The sounds of Derek getting his things and Scott looking over the plans got to me, but there was nothing I needed to do except talk to Stiles.

The only human in the room glanced out the window, peering cautiously at the full, glowing orb hanging in the sky. "What if you get bitten?" he asked softly, reaching out to take my hands and pull me further away from the group, giving us the illusion of privacy. "It's a full moon, and something tells me Klaus isn't going to come running a second time in as many months."

Ignoring the other men in the room, I stepped closer, cupping his jaw with my palms and smoothing my thumbs over the skin at his cheekbones. "I won't get bitten," I assured him softly.

He swallowed thickly, frowning as he thought. "That's exactly what you said last time."

"Look, we just have to get in and out with the betas. This whole ordeal will be over in less than a few hours. We'll be home in time to watch a movie before bed."

"You're disgustingly domesticated," Kol muttered sourly from where he stood next to Peter, enjoying how anxious the werewolf was around him. I pointedly ignored the comment, focusing instead on Stiles.

"Are you coming or are you too busy making doe-eyes at your boyfriend?" Derek asked from the door, and I wordlessly tossed him the finger, pleased when he scoffed in reply.

"I'll see you soon," I vowed, pushing myself up onto my toes and pressing my lips to his for one long, blissful moment before pulling back and flashing him a final smile before disappearing after the rest of our ragtag team.

* * *

It was still warm, summer hanging on by a thread. Ironically, though we didn't feel the cold, Kol and I were the only ones wearing jackets, both of us silent as we followed the boys around the back of the bank.

"What?" Derek asked snippily when Scott hesitated, staring at the building with worry.

"It's just something I can't get out of my head," the beta responded.

"The moon's rising Scott, what is it?" he bit back impatiently.

"Risk and reward."

I rolled my eyes, not believing he was bringing up the lesson from the other day at a time like _this_. "Which means what?" Derek asked, sounding as irritated as I felt.

"We're not measuring the risk with enough information. We don't know enough," the young wolf said, genuine concern in his eyes.

"The clock is ticking, Scott," I spoke up, frowning at him as I absently cracked my knuckles, wishing I had a cigarette.

"But think about it, they put the triskelion on Derek's door _four_ months ago. What have they been doing all this time? Why wait until now?" He had a point, one I was ashamed to say I hadn't really considered. We could be on a suicide mission and not even know it.

"We don't have the time to figure out every little detail," Derek snapped back restlessly.

"But what if this detail – the reason why they waited – what if it's the most important one?"

"If we don't do _something_, Boyd and Erica are as good as dead," I hissed, suddenly feeling uneasy.

"The puppy has a point," Kol spoke up, eyeing the building with suspicion. "Something doesn't add up."

"I know what I'm risking," Derek countered bluntly. "My life, for theirs." With that said he leapt up the building with ease, grabbing hold of the hanging ladder on the fire escape and pulling himself up. "And I won't blame you if you don't follow me," he called over his shoulder.

After only a split second of hesitation, Scott followed the alpha into battle.

"What do you think, darling?" Kol asked, turning to me with the usual mirth dancing in his eyes. Always looking for trouble, that one. "Want to poke the sleeping dragon?"

"We might die."

"We might not."

I was suddenly thrown back to a moment over a century ago, when we'd stood outside the bank of a small town just like this, only it was during the day and full of people. We'd bickered pointlessly for a few moments before finally biting the bullet and ransacking the place, killing all who stood in our path and taking everything we could get our hands on. We hadn't needed the money, it had simply been for...fun.

I blinked back to the present, eyeing Kol who was smirking down at me. "Into the dragon's den we go," I hummed, and I couldn't deny the spark of mischief that burned within me. With a wicked grin I propelled myself up the wall, following the path the wolves had taken and climbing easily to the top, smirking as I heard Kol follow immediately after.

When we appeared by the wolves, Derek was already positioning himself to jump down the shaft.

"Thought we'd let you have all the fun, huh?" I asked playfully, still chest tightening with glee at the thought of a good fight.

"Feel free not to enjoy yourselves so much," Derek snapped back. I merely beamed at him through the dark, only the glow of the full moon lighting our faces.

Kol pushed past me, leaping up onto the top of the shaft and sending us all that familiar shit-eating grin. "Live a little," he sniggered at Derek before dropping gracefully down the hole. He hit the bottom nearly silently, and only a brief second past before there was a loud crashing sound, and we knew he'd punched through the wall.

I clapped Scott on the back as I approached the shaft, hopping up and smiling down at my favourite beta. "See you on the other side, buddy," I wagged my eyebrows and disappeared after Kol.

The room I dropped into smelled of dust and werewolf. I stepped through the hole created by my friend, cat-like eyes adjusting to the light with ease as I peered through the dark, trying to spot any sign of a person – friend or foe.

"Hey Boyd," I began gently when I spotted the wolf, standing in the darkest corner, claws glinting threateningly as he stared at me with actual _hunger_. A moment later another body fell down the shaft, and then Derek was slipping in front of me, hands held out placatingly as he tried to communicate with his pack mate.

Barely a second past and Scott joined us, stepping up beside us and watching Boyd cautiously. "Boyd, it's me. It's Derek," the alpha said soothingly as he growled menacingly.

From beside me Scott's phone began to buzz, and I nudged him with irritation. "Hey Stiles, now's not the best time," he whispered into the phone.

"We're here to get you out," Derek muttered gently, trying to get through to Boyd. I could hear Stiles' voice buzzing in the background, but I didn't have time to focus on it, all of my attention had to be on Boyd if I wanted to get out of this alive.

"Here doggy, doggy," taunted Kol with an eager grin, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet and wagging his fingers at the growling mutt.

"Derek. Juliet," Scott hissed a moment later, shaky hand holding the phone to his ear. "We've got a problem. A really big problem."

There was an animalistic snarl from the corner, and we all looked back at Boyd who was now joined with a smaller brunette werewolf, eyes glowing and claws ready to slice through flesh. "Cora?" Derek asked, heart stuttering as he stared at the girl like he was seeing a ghost.

"Who?"

"One of your wolfy-conquests?" Kol asked jovially, smirking carelessly in the alpha's direction.

"Cora?" he repeated, paying us no mind.

"Derek," the strange girl grunted, sweat dripping down her temple. "Get out. Get out _now_."

"Not an option, sweetheart," I chimed, cracking my neck once as I prepared for what was sure to be one hell of a fight.

Scott let out a gasp. "No," he breathed, and I looked over my shoulder, following his gaze to Ms Morrell from school standing right fucking there, sprinkling a handful of mountain ash onto the floor, completing what I knew could only be a full circle lining the room. Looks like we were all fighting.

Whether we wanted to or not.

They moved fast, faster than they should have been able to. The small one threw a punch at Kol first, but he blocked it easily enough, stepping aside and making a show of yawning. I shot him an annoyed look and ducked under Boyd's arm, landing a strong blow to his midsection that didn't slow him down for even a second.

He swung back around, managing to sink his claws into the skin at my hips, easily drawing blood. I dove away, letting Kol step in, punching him square in the jaw with enough force to send him back a few steps. There was a feral snarl from behind us, and I knew that Derek and Scott had their hands full with the girl.

Boyd recovered quickly, growling at us menacingly before throwing himself at Kol, trying to tackle him like they were playing football, only to find that Kol wasn't easy to knock down. He stood still as a statue and Boyd grunted with effort trying to push him over.

"Just like old times, eh?" Kol asked cheerfully as he threw his hand out lazily, backhanding the large wolf and sending him flying into a nearby pillar.

"When have we _ever_ been in a situation similar to this?" I asked incredulously, huffing when Boyd got back up, apparently having more endurance than usual thanks to the full moon. I lifted my foot, slamming the sole of my boot into his chest, throwing him off balance and buying me a second to line up a punch to his eye. My knuckles broke at the impact, but I wasn't worried; they would heal.

"You know her?" Scott asked when the other duo had a spare three seconds.

"She's my sister," Derek shouted and I raised my eyebrows in surprise even as I punched Boyd in the throat. "My younger sister."

"What the hell is she doing here?"

"Like _I_ have a clue?! I thought she was dead!"

A familiar scent drifted to me, and I snapped my head to the side, eyeing Allison who appeared from nowhere, screaming at Scott in alarm as the Cora girl tried to bite down on his arm.

The distraction wasn't helping things, and with one almighty shove I was thrown across the room, landing at the barrier of the mountain ash near my human friend's feet. "Hello Allison," I greeted her politely, blinking away the black spots in my vision. "Fancy seeing you here."

She glared at me, clearly knowing we didn't have time for such things. I was going to say more, but a large hand clasped itself around my ankle, dragging me backwards and into the depths of the dusty vault.

I grunted as Boyd's claws dug into my flesh, blood pouring from the wound. He snapped his jaws at me, but Kol landed a hit to the side of his face that hopefully knocked out a few teeth and kept him from biting me any time soon.

"Don't break the seal!" Derek shouted from behind us, attention split between Allison and the girl who was apparently his sister. I didn't make the mistake of looking back, instead kicking my heel into Boyd's junk.

"Boyd!" Allison yelled, and a moment later the air shifted, something in my gut letting me know I could once again leave the room. The feeling hit Boyd and Cora too, and all at once they stopped, turning and bolting straight for the door. For a brief second I was worried Allison was going to be attacked, but I needn't have been concerned, as they ran right past her without so much as a glance in her direction.

We all took a moment to breathe, then Derek was stomping towards Allison, signature angry scowl firmly in place. "Don't touch her!" Scott bellowed from within the vault, holding his bleeding stomach as he scrambled towards the door.

"What were you _thinking_?" the alpha demanded furiously.

"That I had to do _something_," she bit back, ripping her arm from his grasp.

"She saved our lives," Scott added.

"Yeah, and what do you think they're going to do out there?" Derek asked hotly. "Do you have _any_ idea what we just set free?" he asked Allison through clenched teeth.

"You want to blame _me_?" she yelled incredulously. "Well I am not the one turning teenagers into killers."

"No," he retorted bitterly. "No, that's just the rest of your family."

"I've made mistakes," she admitted softly, tears welling in her eyes. "Gerard is not my fault."

"And what about your mother?"

I winced, wishing I wasn't here for this particular conversation. "What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.

"Tell her Scott," Derek said snidely, turning his stare around to the beta.

"What does he mean, Scott?" she demanded gently, fear overflowing in her expression. Scott sighed defeatedly, blood dripping from his chin as he closed his eyes tiredly. "What does he mean?"

Kol's hands clapped together loudly, drawing the attention of the room to him. "Well, as much as I would _love_ to continue watching this drama play out, I do believe we have a pair of moon-crazed teenage werewolves to hunt down," he told us cheerily, rubbing his hands together at the thought of a hunt. "Best to keep the casualties to a minimum, yes?"

"Since when do you care about casualties?" I asked suspiciously.

He shot me an irritated look, clearly telling me it _wasn't the time_. "You two go ahead. Get a head start and call us if you find them, we'll meet you out there," Derek said, and I knew he was buying himself time to look for Erica's body.

"This isn't one of those times where you _say _you're going to help and then you don't show up until _after_ we've done all the leg work, is it?" I asked with a smirk, hoping to lighten the mood. But between a terrified and impatient Allison, an exhausted and reluctant Scott and a defeated and annoyed alpha, it wasn't easy to bring things to a lighter level. "Tough crowd," I muttered to Kol, and Derek's expression hardened. "Fine, be sour and see if I care," I huffed. "Kol and I will go have our fun, we'll call you when we have something."

* * *

**A/N: After reading your reviews I've decided to keep this story in only the Teen Wolf archive, thanks for your help, I was really stressed about it :)**

**On a different note, I'm kind of in the early stages of a 'The 100' story, it'd be a Bellamy/OC with what I think might be a slightly different take on how a lot of them seem to go. Let me know if you guys would be at all interested – it definitely won't take away from _I Know Places_, this will always be my priority, I swear it.**


	36. Where the Devil Don't Go

_It's a mean world that I've known_

_Never got no good doing what I'm told_

_It's a mean world that I've known_

_Now you'll find me where the devil don't go_

Where the Devil Don't Go – Elle King

* * *

"Your friends aren't totally terrible," the Original commented conversationally as we took a left, moving off the street and into the forest where the wolves' scents led. "When they aren't being overtly melodramatic, at least," he rolled his eyes, just to convey the correct amount of apathy.

"I think that's the nicest thing I've heard you say since you were undaggered," I chimed, and he threw me a sour look that made me grin. "Don't suggest we split up," I continued, taking a pause to sniff the air and change course when I realised the pair had moved further east. "You're stupid if you think I'm going to be alone on a full moon with two crazy puppies on the loose."

"Ah yes, I heard about your run in with a werewolf's fangs," he murmured, eyeing the prints on the soft ground. "How _did _you convince my bag-of-dicks of a brother to give you his cure?"

I shrugged, "Damon called in a favour."

He snorted indelicately. "That can't be the end of it." I glanced at him before jumping up on a rock and using my momentum to throw myself at a low hanging branch, catching myself on it and swinging myself across a small river in my path. "Niklaus wouldn't just...what is it they say now? _Do you a solid_."

"Please never try to use modern lingo again."

"The sheer fact that you called it 'modern lingo' means you shouldn't be using it either, sweetheart," he grinned, spinning around on nimble feet and beginning to walk backwards through the leaves covering the ground. "Come on, give it up," he probed. "What'd you do in return? Was it sex? You can tell me if it was sex."

My hands whipped out and I shoved him roughly in the chest, making him almost lose his footing, only to get it back so quickly I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing. "It was just the usual bargain," I admitted after a pause. "A favour for a favour."

"...And what was this _favour_."

I pressed my lips together, suddenly wishing I'd packed my cigarettes when I'd gotten ready for this Godforsaken suicide mission. "I'll know when he calls it in," I told him.

He laughed, the sound more mocking than amused. "Oh, you're going to regret that one."

"Well, at least I'm alive," I said, though I couldn't help but agree. Something told me whatever Klaus would want in return, I sure as hell wouldn't want to give. "Stop," I hissed suddenly, hearing a twig snap in the distance. I took a breath in, glad to be downwind when I caught the scent of Cora in the distance. "200 yards to the right," I whispered, stepping around a tree and disappearing into the shadows.

Kol did the same, even more effectively than me. One minute he was there, the next he was a ghost. I could barely even detect his scent in the air. I had to ask him how he did that.

She sensed we were there, and the minute she realised we were following her she took off, heading deeper into the woods. As we chased her, I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialling Scott and calling him as I darted between the trees. "Heading south down Hill River," I yelled into the phone, immediately hanging up and shoving it back into the safety of my pocket.

I could have caught her easily. It may have been a full moon, but not even the most powerful full moon would give a werewolf enough speed to beat me. However, I only needed to make sure she didn't kill anyone, that didn't mean I had to risk getting bitten. I could watch her from a distance just as well.

A new set of footsteps registered in the back of my mind, and I slowed down slightly, glancing behind me to see Isaac running behind us. "Nice of you to show up," I called over my shoulder, my mischievous streak hoping to get a reaction, only to be disappointed when he merely grunted in response.

"Smell that?" Kol called from his place flanking her right.

I took a deep breath. "Human," I murmured back with a worried frown, just as she broke into a clearing, a human girl standing by a tent and fire, staring at the approaching werewolf in pure horror.

I slid out of the trees, skidding along the ground, coming to a stop in a pile of crunchy leaves. The girl gasped, as she took in my fangs, no doubt gleaming in the glow of the full moon. Her gaze slid to Isaac, who was crouched in the leaves to my right. I didn't move, letting the werewolf make the first move. Turns out, neither of us were the first to attack. Scott dove over top of my crouched form, a snarl ripping from his throat as he slammed into the other werewolf, kicking her off balance before throwing himself impressively to his feet.

Cora was back on her feet in an instant, growling menacingly at the three of us; Kol having conveniently lost his way somewhere between the clearing and where we'd been only two seconds ago.

I knew I couldn't get too close. She was fast, pumped full of endorphins or adrenaline, whatever it was that flooded a werewolf's body on a full moon. On any other night of the month, I wouldn't hesitate running right up to her face and knocking her out cold, but I knew now that I couldn't chance getting bitten. Everyone was right; Klaus wouldn't come running a second time.

The only other way to end the whole thing safely would be to run around her while she was distracted and snap her neck, but knowing now that she was Derek's sister, I knew there wasn't a chance in hell of that being an option.

Speaking of the alpha, he appeared at the mouth of the clearing, fangs extended as he snarled at his kin warningly. Undoubtedly realising she didn't stand a chance against an alpha, two betas and a vampire, she turned tail and ran, darting between the trees with disconcerting speed. Derek didn't hesitate, following close on her heels with Isaac close on his.

I wasn't sure they had it handled, but I knew my priority had to be containment of truth. I stood straight, turning to face the terrified human girl before me. "Go!" Scott urged when he realised I was staying behind. "I'll take care of it, just _go!_"

I wanted to argue, tell him what a pointless idea it was since he couldn't do what I could, but nonetheless I spun around and disappeared into the trees. "Kol!" I yelled, not sure how far away the bastard was and if he would hear.

"Half a kilometre East!" he called back, and I knew suddenly that he hadn't ditched us, but rather had picked up on Boyd's trail and gone after him. I would worry about him doing it alone, but I had a nagging suspicion that werewolf bites didn't do shit to Original vampires, and from his blasé attitude to the danger, I assumed I was correct.

I realised I hadn't been fast enough as I heard the sounds of fighting. When I leaped over a fallen tree, I was met with the sight of Kol beating Boyd to a bloody pulp. The kid looked ready to keel over, and on instinct I threw myself at Kol, the element of surprise the only thing that allowed me to tackle him cleanly to the mossy ground.

Boyd let out a whimper that turned into a growl, and for one heart-wrenching moment I thought he was going to attack. To my relief, he merely snarled once before taking off as fast as he could, running with only a slight limp; most of the damage to his face.

"What the fuck, Juliet?!" Kol yelled furiously, shoving me off of him with ease and sliding smoothly to his feet.

"You were killing him!" I yelled back, pushing myself to my feet with as much grace as I could.

"Is that not the point?!"

"_No_!" I screamed vehemently, taking a step closer, preparing to shove him into a tree. "That's _not_ the point!"

"Then why are we here at all?!"

"To make sure they don't hurt themselves or others!" I snapped with a growl, eyes flashing red.

Kol merely scoffed. "How sad," he commented apathetically.

"If you don't like it, go the fuck home!"

Before he could reply, an obnoxiously cheery tone filled the air, and it was all I could do not to flinch. I answered my phone, taking a split second to glance at the name on the screen.

"Stiles," I said his name like he was my messiah, hoping I didn't sound as pathetic as I thought I did. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Of course I am! I'm not the one risking a deadly werewolf bite in the middle of the woods. Are _you_ okay?"

"So far, so good," I answered honestly as I pointedly looked away from a seething Kol.

There was a silence and Stiles' name was hissed by a familiar voice in the background. "Oh, right," he muttered uncomfortably. "There is one _tiny_ little thing..."

"What is it? _How_ tiny?" I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously. He was silent for too long. "On a scale of ice cream to a dead body, how bad is it, Stiles?"

"Dead body," he muttered. "And I mean that literally. There is _literally_ a dead body in front of me."

I finally glanced back to Kol, who was watching with a bored expression, clearly feeling little interest. "Go find the others and bring them back here," I instructed him. For a brief moment he looked like he wanted to tell me exactly where I could shove my instruction, but eventually he huffed and disappeared into the shadows. "Lydia's with you?" I asked to be sure. He hummed a yes. "Where are you? Are you both alright?"

"We're _fine_ Jules," he responded and I could tell he'd rolled his eyes. "Look, we're at the local pool. Lydia stumbled upon a dead body here."

"Dead how?"

He hesitated, "Uh...I'd say the slashed throat is a pretty solid guess for cause of death."

"Was it a vampire or werewolf?" I questioned seriously.

"_What_? Who am I? Sherlock Holmes?" he snarked back.

This time I rolled my eyes. "Did it look like it was done with claws or teeth?" I tried again, and he made a disgusted groan. I frowned, briefly wondering why he'd want to be a vampire if he couldn't even handle needles, or God forbid a little blood.

"Claws," he finally told me, voice not exactly brimming with confidence.

"So, any theories?" I asked casually, hoping to at least somewhat distract him from the gruesome scene he was no doubt exposed to.

"Well, if the claws thing means it was werewolves, then it has to be Boyd and the girl, right?" he responded, confidence beginning to seep into his tone.

A stick cracked behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Derek approaching, Isaac and Scott close behind him, with Kol casually strolling up at the rear. "What?" Derek snapped, no doubt irritated by my call for a time-out.

"Stiles and Lydia found a dead body," I answered him levelly.

"What? _Where_?" Scott asked with wide eyes.

"Local pool."

"Are they okay?" he inquired worriedly.

"They're completely fine, just a little freaked out."

"What killed the him?" Derek spoke up, sounding vaguely curious.

"Werewolf," Stiles replied with something like a gag, clearly hearing the question.

Derek rolled his eyes, looking like he wanted to reach through the connection and throttle my human boyfriend. "Are you sure?" Scott asked, stepping closer to me and practically pressing his cheek to mine so he didn't have to shout to be heard by the kid on the phone.

"Yep," Stiles responded surely. "Throat ripped out, blood everywhere. It's like the fricking Shining over here. If two little twin girls come out of the woods and ask me to play with them forever and ever, I'm not going to be surprised."

"Could you get a closer look to make sure it was them?" he asked gently.

"Make sure it was them? Scott, who else goes around ripping people's throats out?" A thick and heavy pause filled the space, making all the present creatures look to each other suspiciously. The silence seemed to make Stiles realised his mistake. "I-I mean-"

"How much blood is there?" I asked him tightly, sending my scariest glare at Isaac whose stare was moving between Kol and I accusingly.

"What?" Stiles asked cluelessly.

"How much blood?" I repeated sharply, glare switching to Derek who was eyeing Kol like he was sure he was the cause.

"Uh-I don't know. Lots, I mean it's everywhere – ugh," Stiles gagged slightly.

I raised my eyebrows challengingly at the present wolves. "So it wasn't a vampire," I told them, clearly daring them to challenge me with my gaze.

"Why not?" Isaac spoke up, stupidly brave enough to try.

I levelled him with a flat look. "A vampire wouldn't have left that much blood," I told him simply, and he nodded, grimacing no doubt at the thought of ingesting the blood. I smirked at the puppy's innocence. "Look Stiles, have you called the police?" I asked into the phone, turning away for a moment, giving the illusion of privacy.

"Yeah, Lydia did. They're on their way," he replied.

"Okay, I'll call you when we find Erica and Boyd."

"Okay, love you," Stiles said as a farewell before hanging up.

What I'd heard took a moment to sink in. I was frozen, feeling the wind hit my face softly as I continued to hold the phone to my ear long after the call had ended. Had he just told me he _loved me_?

I wondered why the hell he'd chose a moment like _this_ to say such heartfelt words. Saying those words was a big step, wasn't it? It shouldn't be done while one half of the couple is with a dead body and the other is in the forest looking for the killers. At least, that's what the books had taught me.

My heart seemed to clench, which was alarming since it hadn't so much as flinched in two hundred years. I sucked in a deep breath, staring unseeingly into the dark depths of the woods, still reeling.

"Well, isn't that adorable?" Kol chirped from behind me, and I swung around, shoving him in the middle of his chest and sending him back a few steps. If I could blush I would have, instead merely avoiding eye contact with any of the pack.

"This doesn't make sense," Derek spoke up, unknowingly saving me. "The public pool is on the complete other side of the woods. We haven't tracked them anywhere near there."

"Derek, they killed someone," Scott muttered.

"How are they moving so fast?"

"Derek."

"They can't move that fast on foot!"

"Derek! They _killed_ someone. Some totally _innocent_ kid is _dead. _And it's _our _fault," Scott said seriously, puppy dog eyes wide and shining as he spoke.

Derek eyes moved to the ground, and something like shame crossed his face. "It's my fault."

"We need help."

"We have Isaac now."

"I mean _real _help." Isaac looked affronted with the subtle insult, and I held back an amused snort.

"Good thing you have us then, I suppose," Kol spoke up, leaning casually against a tree trunk with crossed arms, smirking devilishly at the pack. "Two vampires on your side? Easy winnings, boys."

"Do you know much about werewolves?" Scott countered, and for once Kol seemed to be knocked down a peg, as he cringed uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm not an expert..."

"Do you know anything about _hunting_ werewolves?"

"Not so much, that was always more Klaus and Elijah's deal..." he trailed off, scowling at the mention of his older brother.

"So, to summarise: we have an ancient vampire who knows nothing about what we're trying to do and is no help other than brute strength, and a vampire who knows a lot more about werewolves, but can't get close enough to actually do any good without risking death by bite."

I turned to sneer at Isaac, who merely smirked back widely. I opened my mouth to let him have it, but Derek cut me off. "We'll catch them," he nodded reassuringly, talking more to himself than anyone else.

"What happens if we do? Are we just going to hold them down until the sun comes up?" Isaac continued with an incredulous scoff.

"Maybe it would be easier...just to kill them." I could tell the words caused physical pain as they fell from his lips, staring ashamedly at the ground.

"Well, I have some brilliant news for you," Kol spoke up, accent lilting in the soft breeze. His lips pulled up into an – ironically – wolfish grin, revealing his pointed fangs as they slid from his gums. To add effect he cracked his knuckles, wagging his eyebrows at us all. "I happen to be _very_ good at killing things."

Scott looked to me, silently begging for help. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but if we're doing a referendum, I vote for murder." He looked almost betrayed, frown appearing on his handsome face. I hurried to explain myself. "I'm risking everything by being out here. I don't want them to die, you know that, but if it comes down to them or me, I'm going to choose survival, Scott."

"Killing them isn't the right thing to do," he spoke up after a long moment; always the moral compass of the pack.

"What if it's the _only _thing to do?" Isaac countered rationally. "If we can't even catch them, what else do we do?"

"Find someone who knows what they're doing."

"Who?" Derek asked with a confused frown.

Scott smirked, an unusual expression for the teen wolf. "Someone who knows how to hunt werewolves."

* * *

"Did we really have to stop and buy cigarettes?" Isaac whined from the from seat, glancing back at Kol and I with an annoyed frown. "Can't you go an hour without one?"

"Not if you want your throat to remain intact," I piped up, and the beta wolf cringed at the reference to the latest werewolf-related fatality. "Too soon?" I asked uncaringly, taking a drag of my smoke before handing it off to Kol who breathed it in eagerly.

"Could you at least blow the smoke out of the window? Secondhand smoke kills, you know?"

I snorted, rolling my eyes and kicking my feet up on the seat. "You're a werewolf, moron, that damage'll heal."

He muttered under his breath childishly, but I ignored him, not quite feeling petty enough to call him on it. I glanced out the window again, eyeing Scott where he was talking in low, desperate tones to papa-Argent. "Do you think this is going to work?" he asked louder, head swinging to Derek lazily, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Nope," Derek responded curtly.

"Definitely not," I added.

"Complete waste of time," Kol drawled.

"Yeah, me neither," Isaac mumbled, eyes narrowing as he watched the hunter and wolf converse. There was a heavy pause, and I took the smoke back from Kol, sucking in the horrid but addicting chemicals and sighing contently as I exhaled. "So your sister?" he said conversationally, looking over at the alpha expectantly. Derek turned his head, shooting his loyal beta a flat, intimidating stare. "Sorry," he apologised awkwardly. "Yeah, it's a bad time. I'll ask later..." Derek once again sent the teen wolf that death stare that made his heart jump slightly. "...or never. Never is good."

We were silent again, all listening as Argent clearly but surprisingly gently said no to Scott's request. "So...plan B?" I spoke up, frowning when Kol sighed and mumbled about there being better ways to spend his time. I turned to him with an irritated expression. "It's either do something good for a change or go home to fuck sluts and drink grog until you pass out," I told him snidely as Derek pulled out of the parking space, following the SUV heading onto the main road.

He snorted in blatant amusement, lips pulling into a grin. "This coming from the girl who I once caught with no less than _five_-"

"We're not having this conversation," I hissed furiously, successfully cutting him off, but come on, like I could ever _actually_ intimidate the _Original Troublemaker?_ Isaac turned in his seat to stare at me with wide, intrigued eyes. I reached forwards quickly, pressing the butt of my cigarette into the spot between his baby-blue's.

The wolf cried out in pain, flinching back and pressing a hand to the burn it left on his smooth, pale skin. "What the hell?!" he shouted, wincing for a moment before the burn began to heal before my eyes, just as I knew it would.

"Even one question comes out of that pretty little mouth and you're going to regret ever hearing my name, you got that?" I seethed, glaring at him threateningly. He swallowed, wincing when my eyes flooded with blood. "Am I _clear_?"

"Crystal," he muttered with a hurried nod.

I sneered in his direction, just as Derek pulled into a parking lot only a street from the pool. We didn't have to wait long, not a minute later Derek's phone rang. He answered the call, talking with Scott in clipped sentences, arranging to meet at the last place we saw Boyd and Cora.

I didn't usually get tired, but it felt like it'd been weeks since I last slept. As we drove back towards the north park that was closest to the place we had to be, I thought about how much I'd love to be in bed with Stiles, the kid curled around me in the way that somehow made me feel both excited and relaxed at the same time.

The thought of Stiles made me swallow. He said he _loves_ me. I knew he cared a lot, that he definitely felt something stronger than mere attraction, but to _love_ me? I'd forgotten what it felt like to be loved. Nobody had loved me, _really_ loved me, since I was human. Klaus had never said it, Damon sure as hell never even hinted at it, and every other fleeting relationship had been superficial at best.

I loved the way Stiles made me feel. It was hard to describe exactly what he did to me. It was almost as though he...brought me to life. And that's what Stiles was; pure life. And after two centuries of nothing but death, it was more than refreshing to be around someone who generated such _life_.

"Thinking about lover-boy?" Kol spoke up, and my gooey smile dropped from my face, instantly melting into an irritated glare. "Ooh, still tense after the whole '_I love you_' thing, are we?"

"Fuck off, Dr Phil," I hissed angrily.

"Pretending, for a moment, that I understand that reference, how are you feeling? That was the first time he'd said it, huh?"

My glare only intensified. At one point, _so_ many years ago now, Kol had been my best friend in the world. He was tough and mischievous and harsh, but when it came to friends and love lives he could gossip all day long. It was a dreadful thing, really, but at the time, back in my bloodthirsty days, it'd been the best having someone I could unload all of my problems onto.

Unfortunately, it'd been a long time since we were that close, and I wasn't about to go back to the way things were. We weren't the same people, and this wasn't the same decade. Hell, it wasn't even the same _century_.

"I mean, as far as declarations of love go, it wasn't the most romantic thing I've ever seen," he continued to chatter, reaching into my pocket without permission and pulling out another cigarette, lighting it up with the lighter in his pocket and puffing on it happily. "Or the smoothest. Or even the most sincere. It was really more of an afterthought than anything, and _that_ can't feel good-"

"Kol," I began with grit teeth. "If you keep talking I'm going to shove that cigarette so far down your throat that it'll singe your intestines."

"Always so creative," he chimed with a playful smile. "That's what I love about you. Remember that time in Egypt, when you-"

"Can you stop telling my...telling Derek and Isaac all of my dirty laundry?" I snarled (reluctant to call the two werewolves my 'friends' _period,_ much less in front of Kol), but the Original merely chuckled, leaning back in his seat and inhaling a lungful of chemicals.

Finally Derek pulled into an empty parking lot at the edge of the park, and I immediately slipped from the confines of the vehicle, taking a deep breathe of fresh, forest air.

Not bothering to finish the rest of the cigarette, Kol dropped it to the ground and stepped on it lazily, shoving his hands into his pockets and wandering towards the tree line without prompting. Derek followed, and of course Isaac stuck close to him. I sighed, running a hand through my hair, the same shade as the night sky, and headed after them, trying to put what was happening with Stiles on the back-burner.

We got to the site first, and since I couldn't imagine Scott giving Argent a piggyback ride all the way here, they were probably going at a human pace. Thankfully, it didn't take long for them to show up, heavy looking black duffel bags in their hands.

"Who's _he_?" Argent asked bluntly, nudging his chin in Kol's direction.

"Your worst nightmare," he responded callously, his signature wicked grin firmly in place.

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. "He's on our side." I told the hunter, arms crossed over my chest as I raised an eyebrow, as though daring him to speak up.

"You think that's all I need to know?"

"I _know_ that's all you need to know."

We were caught in a stare off. Luckily, I was fantastic at them. Blinking was another thing that wasn't a necessity for me, so I really only continued to do it so I didn't unnerve everyone around me. Still, it came in handy in times like this.

"Kol's an old friend of Juliet's," Scott spoke up, and with a growl I looked away from Argent to glare accusingly at Scott. "He's an Original vampire, but he's good...at the moment."

The hunter's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, giving away his shock. "The Original family is a fairy tale; nothing more than a myth, a ghost story to keep monsters in line," he said harshly, expressive eyes narrowed suspiciously at my old friend. "So I'll ask again, _who are you_?"

"Kol Mikaelson," the vampire introduced himself civilly, forgoing holding out a hand, knowing it would be pointless. "You probably haven't heard of me – I take no offence – but I have no doubt a hunter as esteemed as yourself knows of my brothers, Elijah and Klaus." Argent didn't look the slightest bit convinced, though I could have sworn I saw him flinch at the names of his older brothers. "I'd offer to show you baby pictures, but the camera wasn't invented until eight centuries after we were born," he clicked his tongue casually.

"We don't have time for this," Derek snapped suddenly, looking at the hunter imploringly. "They could be killing someone else as we speak. It doesn't matter who _he_ is," he growled, pointing halfheartedly at Kol. "Just know that he's powerful and on our side. Now, what's the plan?"

"Are you tracking them by print?" he asked, eyeing Kol for another long minute before crouching down to look closely at the soft earth beneath us.

"Trying to," Scott responded with a nod, glad we were making some headway.

"Well you're wasting your time. There's only one creature on earth that can visually track footprints, and that's man. If you're not trained like me you'd have no idea that _these_ prints are Boyd's," the experienced tracker pointed at a set of heavy footprints leading into the night, "And _these..._"

"...Are Cora's," Isaac finished with a confident smirk that made me want to roll my eyes.

Argent sighed tiredly, already done with his shit. "They're _yours_," he corrected bluntly. "You trampled Cora's as soon as you walked over here. Listen, I know that three of you are focusing half of your energy on resisting your own urges under the full moon. The other two resisting the call of my blood." I scowled at him, hating the way he made me sound disgusting, like some kind of animal. "That puts you all at a severe disadvantage to Boyd and Cora who have totally given in. They've got the pedal to the floor while you five are barely hitting the speed limit."

Derek sighed too, arms crossed over his chest defensively. "So what do we do?"

"Focus on your sense of smell. Actual wolves are known to track their prey by a hundred miles a day. A trained hunter can use scent to track them. If the wind is with them, wolves can track a scent by a distance of two miles – which means we can draw them to us, or into a trap."

Argent turned to Kol and I, eyeing the Original with severe distrust.

"The two of you have sight and sound on your side," he told us, meeting my eyes more than Kol's. "Your nose isn't much compared to wolves, but they're no match for your hearing or sight. Rely on that, be our ears. You'll hear their hearts from a good mile away, which will give us plenty of time to prepare.

"The full moon does give us one advantage. They'll have a higher heat signature which makes them easier to spot with infrared."

The hunter tossed us each a set of what I assumed were infrared goggles. I knew they would only prevent me from operating at my best, so I threw them back.

"Thanks, but I've got my own," Derek spoke up, eyes glowing ruby red for one moment.

"And the thought that we need actually these is laughable," Kol said, tossing his own pair back. They landed on the bag with perfect accuracy, and he shot the hunter a shit-eating grin.

"Just remember we're not hunting wild animals. Underneath those impulses are two intelligent human beings. They'll think they can't rely on that human side. It's suppressed, but it's there; reminding them how to mask their scent, how to cover their tracks, how to survive."

He spun around, facing the other direction as he surveyed his surroundings, getting his bearings.

"This way," he finally said, leading us up and over a ridge, revealing the glowing lights of the city. It was beautiful, and I had a strange sense of _home_. I may not have been here long, but the town had wormed it's way into my heart in a way I hadn't expected any place ever would.

I thought of the school, where I spent my days drawing and writing and reading, interacting with people around my physical age, letting me pretend, for a few brief hours a day, that I was human. My keen eyes locked onto the massive building towards the west of town, where the hospital sat, windows shining with painful fluorescent lights, where I went every couple of weeks to steal blood, sometimes chatting with Melissa while I was there, who had become more of a figure in my life than I'd anticipated.

I remembered Stiles' house, where I spent the majority of my time, chatting easily with John over fat-free pancakes and something called 'fakon'. Where I laid in bed with my gloriously human boyfriend, listening to old music and talking about recent movies I had yet to see. I thought of my house, where I had pictures of my life framed on the walls, and of my old, worn couch that I slept on more often than not. Of my fireplace, which (even though I didn't get cold) I loved to curl up in front of when it rained. I thought of my kitchen where I had stored enough food to feed an army, mostly things Stiles and Scott enjoyed, so that when they came over they could help themselves to meals while we did stupid teenage things like drink and play ridiculous board games.

It was all so disgustingly...domestic. But I loved everything about it, about this bloody town. Right down to the squeaky step on my staircase and the way I walked everywhere. I loved how my neighbour sometimes came over to ask for sugar and how her cat could be found in my own house more often than not. I loved the way Scott joked with me at school about Stiles, muttering humorous comments about 'study dates' and something about a 'sexy librarian' fantasy of Stiles'.

And Stiles. I remembered the way he sometimes took me past the Subway shop on the way home from school, because he knew that even though I didn't need to eat, I loved the taste of their sweet chilly chicken. I thought about how I loved the way we sometimes went to the park, and I'd sit under the shade of a tree reading a classic while Stiles practised throwing a ball with his lacrosse stick. How he'd get tired and collapse next to me as he huffed for breath, then I'd make it worse by kissing him until his lungs screamed for air.

I knew I had to tell him. I had to tell him how my heart – that shouldn't have been moving _at all_ – always seemed to jump when I saw him; how my skin tingled when we touched; how, even though he was the biggest moron I knew, I loved him more than absolutely anything on this earth.

He needed to know I was never going to leave him.

"_Juliet_?!"

I didn't hear them call my name until Kol slapped me over the head. I cringed as my skull cracked at the impact, but ignored the pain in favour of focusing on Argent.

"How fast can you go?" he continued once he finally knew he had my attention.

I smirked, putting all sentimentality and personal thoughts out of my mind, concentrating entirely on the conversation, living completely in the moment. "I can sure as hell give a werewolf a run for his money," I grinned wickedly.

"Even on a full moon?"

My grin only widened. "_Any_ day of the month, papa Argent," I replied playfully, and Kol snorted from behind me while he looked to be trying not to roll his eyes.

"Alright," he said, focusing back on the task at hand. "The problem is when they breach the woods and hit the residential area. Once they're past the high school they're right in the middle of Beacon Hills."

"They're not going to...kill everything they see, are they?" Isaac asked wearily.

"No, but there is an important difference to recognise. Wolves hunt for food, at a certain point they get full. Boyd and Cora are hunting for the pleasure of the kill. There's some primal-apex-predatory satisfaction that comes from the ripping of warm bodies to bloody shreds. And who knows when that need gets satiated?"

Argent paused, taking the opportunity to glace back at Kol and I with barely veiled contempt.

"If anyone understands that, it'll be you two." He said it like it was an insult, but his words didn't affect me in the slightest. "Wolves and vampires couldn't be more different, but if there's ever a time when they're most alike, it's the night of a full moon. They have the exact same, uncontrollable bloodthirsty urges; the instinct not only to feed, but to maim and torture and inflict as much pain and chaos as possible."

"We can't kill them." We all turned to look at Scott, who had spoken suddenly.

"What if we can't catch them?" Derek countered darkly, making a valid point.

"Then maybe we just need to contain them," Argent said with a thoughtful frown. "There's no one in the school at night, is there?"

"You want to use the school as a cage?" I asked, eyebrows raising at how shockingly brilliant the idea was.

"If there's somewhere with a strong enough door. No windows or access to the outside."

"Like the boiler room," Isaac suggested idly. "There's just one big steel door."

Argent was silent for a long, heavy beat. "You're sure the school's empty?"

"It has to be," Scott spoke, heart racing as our plan came together. "There can't be anyone there this late."

"Okay," the hunter nodded, seeming to steel himself, a strength overcoming him that I refused to admit I admired. "I know what we have to do." He turned and started back to his car, opening the trunk and pulling out a metal kind of cylinder. "These are ultrasonic emitters," he told us, jamming one into the soft earth with ease. "It's one of the tools we use to carrel werewolves and vampires; pushing them into a direction we want them to run. It gives off a high-pitched frequency that only they can hear."

He pushed the button on top of the device, and pain suddenly exploded in my head. Instinctively my hands shot up to cover my ears, like that would in some way help. I winced, practically keeling over as I felt intensely ill, like I was going to vomit. It was like when a witch pulled one of their bloody voodoo tricks and made our head explode with pain, except this was the man-made equivalent.

Finally the sound stopped and it was like a heavy weight was lifted. I sucked in a deep breath of air, the experience zapping me of energy. I knew I needed to feed, but I didn't have the time.

"These are going to drive them into the school?" Derek asked once we'd all recovered, taking a few of the devices from the suddenly helpful hunter.

"Then it's up to you to get them into the basement."

"Does anyone else want to rethink the plan where we just – ah – kill them?" Isaac spoke up, and Kol and I looked to the others eagerly.

Unfortunately Mr 'moral compass' shot down that suggestion once again instantly. "It's going to work," Scott assured us all.

Argent pulled out a map of some kind, laying it against the side of the car and running his finger over the edges. "Derek, you put one _here _and_ here._ Isaac, you need to get one _here. _Juliet, _here _and _here._ Kol, is it?" he didn't wait for an answer. "You can put one _here_ and finally Scott you can do the ones closest to the school _here _and _here_." He turned around to shoot us all a searching look. "Everyone know what they're doing?"

"Sir, yes, Sir," I mumbled, ignoring the sour look the hunter shot me. I plucked two of the devices from the pile.

"Meet back at the school in ten minutes," Argent told us as I headed into the night.

I laughed, the sound no doubt carrying back to them. "Only need five."

* * *

"So what're you gonna do about Stiles?"

I rolled my head to the side to glare irritatedly at Kol, who was lounged on the stairs beside me. "Why are you, a _thousand_ year old immortal, so damn invested in my love life?" I asked with narrowed eyes.

Kol snorted at my question. "Please, it's an even better source of drama than a novel," he drawled. I rolled my eyes, shooting him an unimpressed stare. We were quiet for a moment, each of us appearing casual, but both coiled and ready to pounce at the slightest sign of a threat. "Do you love him?"

I turned to look at him again, this time with genuine surprise rather than annoyance. I didn't really have anyone to talk to, I realised. Scott would tell everything to Stiles, Damon would make fun of me, Lydia wasn't even an option, Allison was standoffish after everything, Derek was a dick, Isaac was immature and Melissa would make too big of a deal out of things.

So who did that leave me with? Besides, the guy _had_ been my very best friend for a good fifty or so years. I also wasn't about to lie. Even though it was practically my default setting, I couldn't lie about this. Even if it wasn't to Stiles' face, I'd never answer that question with a 'no'.

"Yes."

"Then what's the problem?"

I frowned at Kol in confusion. "What problem?"

"Your problem."

"I don't have a problem," I defended.

"I can see it," he argued, pointing at my eyes obnoxiously. "I can see it, right _there_."

I was quiet for a long minute, considering his words. "Have you ever loved a human?" I finally asked.

"No," he answered instantly, with absolutely no hesitation. So either it was_ really _true or _really_ false.

"I just think he could do better," I shrugged, frowning once more as I remembered something my boyfriend said to me recently. "But, he's forbidden me from pulling a '_Twilight_'."

"What the fuck is a _Twilight_?"

"Be glad you don't know."

There was movement from the right, and I was on my feet in a quarter of a second, keen eyes cutting through the dark like it was daylight. Growling met my ears, and the sounds of Isaac cursing to himself. A horn honked, then I could hear feet hitting the cement as the wolves ran through the front of the school, heading for the entrance.

Knowing where they were now, we took off to meet them inside the hall with Derek, only for us to get there and hear their footsteps on the roof.

"Someone has to drive them inside," Scott told us with a worried frown.

Argent held out his fucking lightening rod weapon, the electricity covering it in glowing blue waves. "I'll go," he told us grimly.

"No," Isaac cut in. "I'm faster." He turned and ran, feet barely touching the ground as he legged it to the back of the school.

"Inside," the hunter instructed us tightly. "Be ready."

We didn't respond, but followed the instructions, moving into the school and pacing the hallways, waiting for a chance to kick some werewolf ass. They didn't take long to appear, the wolves barrelling down the hall like the school was on fire. Derek and Scott flanked our sides, ready to fight just as we were.

Cora came at me first, snarling with glowing eyes as she threw out her hand, nails catching my arm and slicing through the soft flesh. I grunted in pain and used my uninjured arm to slam a fist into her jaw. She fell back but caught herself at the last second, propelling herself at me and snapping her jaws, nearly landing a bite to my wrist. "Now would be a good time to get them into the boiler room!" I shouted at Derek and Scott, who growled to catch their attention.

It didn't work, too focused on the threat of vampires to pay them any mind.

With an irritated sigh I spun around, taking off down the hall, Kol on my heels. It wasn't hard to outrun them, and Derek and Scott were on their six, making sure they didn't fall off the trail. We got to the room in record time, ripping open the door and slipping into the encasing darkness of the chamber.

I made a bee line for the furthest corner, making sure I wasn't in range of their deadly bites. Kol was leaning lazily near the door, looking more bored than anything. Scott and Derek slid into crouches, claws extended and ready to attack.

It only took a few short seconds before the two out-of-control wolves were tripping over themselves in their haste to get through the door, amber eyes glowing eerily in the darkness.

Scott tossed something my way, and the kid was more than lucky that I saw it coming and plucked it from the air. I eyed the fire extinguisher in my hands, wondering what the hell he wanted me to do with it; hit them over the head?

I glanced to Scott, who noticed my confused look and mimed pulling the trigger and shooting the substance in their faces. As soon as they were close enough I did just that, along with the two sane wolves. The distraction only bought us maybe an extra ten seconds, and before long they were running at us again.

The wolves ran first, leading the way out of the room. We came up the rear, diving through the door just before Derek slammed it in their faces. Scott was sucking in air desperately, and Derek was scowling as he pressed his full weight against the door while the wolves on the other side banged at it like it had offended them.

Kol seemed unaffected, going as far as to already begin taking the stairs back up to the first floor. I rolled my eyes, but after checking nonverbally with Scott, followed after him, they could take it from there.

"We should have just killed them," the Original vampire said coldly, though on the whole seemed uninterested, casually observing his nails as he leant against the lockers. "It would have been easier," he added, nodding pointedly to the large slashes in my tank top, and the blood staining the surrounding fabric.

"You're right," I nodded acceptingly. "It would have been _easier_."

"So we never really got introduced," Isaac popped up, holding a hand out to Kol with his winning grin spread across his face. "I'm Isaac Lahey, I'm Derek's beta."

"Do I look like I care?" Kol responded bluntly, raising an apathetic eyebrow.

"Be nice," I murmured, and he shot me a glare. Fine, I would just have to do it myself. "Isaac, this is Kol Mikaelson. He's a jackass."

"I'm a big fan of the whole undead thing," Isaac commented friendlily and Kol sent him a dubious look. "Seriously, if I wasn't already a werewolf, I'd be begging Jules to change me," he added honestly, heart beating steadily in his chest. I raised an eyebrow at him in question, but he merely smirked in response.

Kol reached forwards and stole another cigarette from my pocket, slipping it between his lips and lighting it in less than a moment. I inhaled and instantly my throat ached, a familiar scent invading my senses, making me hungry instantly. "Do you smell that?" I hissed with a frown.

Kol sniffed lightly. "Blood," he answered with a thoughtful grimace. "Werewolf blood."

"Maybe they're tearing each other apart down there?" Isaac suggested with a shrug.

I tilted my head, keen ears focusing in on the sounds coming from the boiler room beneath us. "Something's not right," I said cautiously, eyeing the empty hall with suspicion. There was a familiar voice groaning in pain, and without waiting for the others I darted back to the door to the stairs, ripping it open and peering down at the bottom, where Scott stood; all alone. "Tell me Derek didn't go back in there," I growled from my place, glaring at the boy angrily.

"There's someone else in there," he told me with a worried frown. "Someone human."

"So he went back in _alone_?" I hissed, taking the stairs two at a time in my haste to get to the bottom. "Is he suicidal?" With an enraged huff, I reached forwards, intending to open the bloody door and step in before Derek ended up wearing his intestines.

"You're _not_ going in there," Scott said, all but leaping in between me and the door. I raised an eyebrow at him, perplexed by his nerve.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my voice like ice.

"I'm not letting you get hurt, Derek can handle himself."

"Come on, Stiles doesn't need to know. You won't get in trouble. Just let me in-"

"It's not _for_ Stiles," he cut me off with a rare scowl. "You're my _friend_, and I'm not letting you get hurt."

A warm, pleasant feeling buzzed in my gut, and I was once again eternally grateful for the ray of sunshine that was Scott McCall. Before I could say anything back, all the sounds from within the boiler room came to an abrupt stop. Scott and I looked at each other, worry apparent on both of our faces as we listened to a weak heartbeat pumping through the door.

"Scott! Juliet! The sun's coming up!"

Isaac all but dove down the stairs, and Scott didn't hesitate to rip open the door, darting into the room, searching for our alpha friend. He was alive, but for how long I couldn't be sure. He was kneeling on the cement, blood seeming to drip from every bit of exposed skin. He took a shaky breath as we approached him, eyeing the unconscious wolves on either side of him.

"There's a teacher," Derek breathed, clearly in pain. "I'll take care of her."

"No Derek, I can do it-" I tried to say.

"I'll take care of her," he repeated, shamelessly cutting me off. "Get them out of here," he instructed, gesturing to the wolves before us.

I wanted to argue, but something in his voice told me it wouldn't be a good idea. Too tired to bicker, I reached down and helped Scott lift Boyd, both of us throwing an arm around him and hauling him out and up the stairs. As we left, I couldn't help but think of one thing: Derek might have been a dickhead.

But he was also kind of a hero.

* * *

"He wants us to meet him where?" I asked as I stood beside Stiles' locker, putting in the combination – his mother's birthday – and opening it, sliding out Stiles' grey hoodie and throwing it over my torn clothing, meaning we wouldn't have to make a stop on the way to meet our mutual friend.

"The hospital," he repeated, watching me closely as I brushed the dirt from my face and threw my hair on top of my head. "He says there's something we have to see."

We turned to leave the school, heading out the doors and down into the soft warmth of the rising sun. "No need to look so forlorn," I told him gently, nodding respectfully at Argent as we walked past him. "Nobody died this time."

I could tell he knew I had a point, but wasn't about to stop feeling guilty about whatever was bothering him so.

"Come on," I nudged him gently, smirking up at him playfully, hoping to at least slightly cheer him up. "I'll race you."

He rolled his eyes, the beginnings of a smile appearing on his lips. "But we both know you'll win," he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I'll go easy on you," I jested with a wolfish grin. "Come on, teen wolf," I jeered good-naturedly. "Let's see what you're made of."

We were both tired – exhausted, really – but we both also knew we could do with something to distract us. He didn't give me any warning, suddenly just speeding up, turning into a slight blur. I grinned widely, pausing for one final moment before launching myself across the road at half my potential speed, catching up to the wolf with ease.

We made it to the hospital in no time, me arriving several seconds before Scott, who made a show of pouting before a familiar sunny grin overtook his face. "Mom!" he called, seeing his mother behind the desk. She turned to us, hurrying from her post to reach up and kiss his cheek.

"Hi sweetheart," she greeted him casually, turning to shoot me a kind smile. "Hey Jules." There was a pause, and she grew somber. "Stiles is down in the morgue," she whispered to us discretely. We nodded and turned to leave, but Melissa caught my wrist, pulling me back to her gently, a worried look on her face. "And Jules? They found that girl's body; his friend? I have a feeling he'll need you more than ever."

Grief ripped through me, surprisingly strong considering it was merely sympathetic grief. I knew what it was like to lose someone, and I never wanted him to have to go through that. But no matter how strong or how fast I was, I couldn't protect him from everything.

He was leaned against the wall when we walked in, hands pressed to his temples like he was fighting a headache. "Stiles," I said his name like a prayer, at the door in one moment and in his arms the next. He started in surprise, but as soon as he realised who was wrapped around him, he relaxed, arms coming up to wrap around me, pulling me to him and taking a deep breath like he hadn't been able to breathe before I got there. "I'm sorry," I whispered to him, nuzzling my head in the crook of his neck. "I wish there was something I could do..."

"You're doing it already," he whispered back as though Scott wouldn't be able to hear anyway. My lips tipped up slightly before I pursed them and pressed them to his skin, the small gesture making him shiver.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked when we – _finally_ – pulled away from each other. He stepped up to his best friend, meeting him in a remorseful hug.

"I'm getting there," he murmured back, clapping him on the should twice before pulling back.

"So what did we need to see?" he asked, clearly knowing as well as I that our Stiles needed a distraction to cope.

"Okay, so both the body from the pool and Heather have the exact same injuries," he began, lifting the sheet off who I assumed was the kid found at the pool. "Head bashed in, asphyxiated and throat slit. What kind of moon-crazed werewolf would take the time to inflict all of that?"

"So Boyd and Cora might not have killed anyone?" Scott asked, trying to wrap his head around everything.

"You're going to wish they did," he responded grimly.

I bristled in concern. "Why?" Scott questioned confusedly.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure yet but...the other girl who was out in the woods – Emily – eventually they're going to find her. She's one of them. Emily, Heather, the guy Lydia found at the pool? All three were virgins," he paused, rubbing a hand across his jaw with a sigh. "They're all going to have the same three injuries. Strangled; throat slashed; head bashed in. It's called a three-fold death."

"So if these aren't random killings then what are they?" Scott asked with a cautious frown, clearly knowing the conversation wasn't going to end on a happy note.

"Sacrifices. Human sacrifices."


	37. Only You

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who favourites and follows, ESPICALLY those who review. Your words are what drives me and fuels me. I love you all!**

**Warning! There is explicit content in this chapter, if that's not your thing you can just stop reading when things get too much. I've never really written sex scenes before, and Juliet has quite a different view of the whole thing than I do, so sorry if it comes across as crass (she's doesn't have a very delicate vocabulary). Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

_Oh boy, have you seen my hands?_

_I can't hold on, I don't understand why_

_Dear boy, have you seen my soul?_

_It's under the ground, I'm out of control_

_Only you can bring me back to life_

_Only you can put me into right_

_Tell me when I can breathe again_

Only You – Pretty Reckless

* * *

"You need to have sex with me."

I looked up from the textbook in my hands, eyeing Stiles where he sat in the driver's seat of the jeep, hands tapping anxiously against the steering wheel. "Never been hit on like that before," I commented blandly, turning back to the words on the page and beginning to read about contemporary literature versus classic Bronte.

"I'm serious," he whined, hands clenching around the wheel.

"The first time we have sex is not going to be because you're avoiding being used as a sacrificial virgin," I dead-panned, flipping the page, eyes scanning the paper idly.

"I-I mean that's not..." he tried to defend himself, but we both knew he was full of shit. "I just mean-"

"I know what you mean," I rolled my eyes, giving up on reading and slamming the book shut, dropping it in my lap and turning to give my boyfriend my full attention. "Your first time isn't going to be out of desperation to stay alive."

He groaned, shooting me a sour look. "It doesn't need to be _special_," he muttered. "I'm not a girl."

I clenched my teeth, irritation rising within me. "We've been over this, the sanctity of female virginity is a social construct-"

"This is not the time for one of your feminist rants!" he interrupted me sternly, and I fell silent. Clearly he was more worried than I thought he would be. I felt bad, feeling my walls crumbling. If he was really that terrified, would it be so bad to just give in? "My status as a virgin is _literally_ a threat to my _life_!"

"I'll protect you," I shrugged, though I knew it was weak at best.

He groaned again, thumping his forehead against the wheel once he'd pulled into one of the few empty spaces in the parking lot. "I'm going to die, all because my vampire girlfriend won't jump my bones," he mumbled forlornly, hitting his head against the wheel to punctuate the sentence.

"You're right," I rolled my eyes again. "Your life is _so hard_."

"Your sarcasm is neither wanted nor appreciated," he grumbled back. I chuckled softly, throwing my textbook into my shoulder bag and reaching across to run a hand through Stiles' hair.

"You're going to be okay," I assured him, my nails scraping his scalp gently. "I'll see you at track."

With that I opened the door and slid out onto the road, my heeled boots clicking against the asphalt. I ran a hand through my own hair, pushing it from my face as I made my way through the students arriving at school, heading for the main entrance.

I knew who I had to speak to, I just hoped they wanted to speak back.

"Hello."

Allison jumped where she sat in her favourite seat at the front of the geography class, hands slapping against the wood of her desk. "Jesus!" she cursed, turning in her chair to glare at me.

"Sorry," I said unapologetically, scooting my chair closer so she could hear me when I spoke quietly. "We need to talk."

A crease appeared between her perfect brows. "About what?" she asked, voice heavy with caution.

"Stiles wants me to have sex with him."

Those eyebrows of hers hit her hairline and her lips parted, probably taken aback by my straightforwardness. She slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle a guffaw, making me scowl at her unhappily.

"This is serious," I hissed in irritation, sending her my most intimidating death glare. She sobered after a moment, coughing to get rid of the last giggles in her throat.

"Okay, your boyfriend wants to have sex with you?" she worded it like a question, eyeing my skeptically. "You don't exactly strike me as a prude, so what's the problem?"

I frowned, wondering how best to word my concerns. "I'm worried he wants it...for the wrong reasons," I muttered, idly picking at my nails just so I had somewhere to look.

"The wrong reasons being...?" she trailed off.

"He just wants to lose his virginity," I mumbled with a wince at the thought. "And that he doesn't really care who it's with."

"You're an idiot."

My head snapped up and I looked at Allison in surprise, shocked she'd been so harsh. "Excuse me?" I asked, frowning as I stared at her, wondering what the hell was going on in that pretty head of hers.

"I called you an idiot."

I waited for an explanation, but after a long minute of silence, I started to think that maybe I wasn't getting one.

Finally, she smiled, the expression open and relaxed. "Look, Stiles is completely, totally and unconditionally in love with you," she told me, heartbeat intimidatingly steady. I sucked in a breath. Stiles and I hadn't talked about what he'd said on the phone. In fact, we hadn't even mentioned it. I wasn't even sure if he knew what he'd said, or even remembered it.

A part of me was hoping he'd forgotten, and another part was desperate for him to bring it up so I could spill everything and fall into him like I so fiercely wanted to.

"And don't even try to convince me you don't feel the same," Allison continued knowingly.

I lifted one shoulder, letting it drop in a shrug, "I deny nothing."

"So, I ask again, the problem _is..._?"

I had to admit, now that I thought about it logically, there wasn't really a problem. Why was I so desperate to get out of having sex with Stiles? If anything, I was desperate for the opposite. I hadn't been so pathetically attracted to someone since Damon in the late 1800's. And _fuck_ did I miss sex. For so many years, lust fuelled everything I did. Lust for sex, lust for power, bloodlust. God knew I never went a day without satisfying at least one of those needs.

And what had I become?

Kol was right, I was boring.

Narrowing my eyes at Allison, I said, "I don't appreciate the attitude, but you helped."

She smiled again. "Is that your way of saying thank you?" she teased.

I grunted and turned back to face the front of the room just as the elderly teacher hobbled into the space, beginning to ramble about tectonic plates.

I smiled, no longer feeling like there was something holding me back. It was _Stiles_, and we were both getting to the stage in our relationship where we needed more from each other physically. If _I – _a 200 year old female vampire – was struggling, then _Stiles_ – a sixteen year old guy – was probably about ready to explode from the tension.

The only thing stopping me was my bloodlust. Since I'd never had sex with a human that I hadn't fed from, I had no idea how I was going to go having sex without doing it. I had to have confidence in myself. If there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I would _never_ under _any _circumstances, do something that would hurt Stiles.

So, with my mind made up, I settled into the seat with a pleased grin, excited for things to come.

* * *

I greeted Stiles with a kiss when I saw him.

It was unusual for me to do so in public, and he gasped as our lips made contact. Allison had somehow convinced Lydia to lend me her bike shorts, so I wore those and a tank top with a bra that made my chest ridiculously attractive.

I wanted to tease Stiles.

We were coming into a new phase in our relationship, one where we were going to explore one another like we had yet to, like Stiles had yet to _ever_. I wanted to give him everything, show him everything. And I wanted to make him sweat.

I deepened the kiss, tugging at his hair and stroking his tongue with my own. People around us started to wolf whistle, but I ignored them, hooking my leg around my boyfriend's hip for a brief second before finally pulling away, grinning wickedly at the groan he gave when we parted.

"Stilinski! Cooper!" Coach yelled in that irritated voice we were so accustomed to. "Save it for the bedroom." I wasn't sure he was legally allowed to make that comment, but I couldn't have cared less. "Everyone else, be ready to start at my whistle!"

Everyone did some last minute stretches, while I kept my eyes on Stiles, smirk firmly in place. "You okay?" I asked him smugly.

"What was-" he stuttered, lips slightly swollen and glistening from the kiss. "Um-I don't...why...?"

I shrugged, grinning up at him cheekily. "No reason," I told him, tongue caught between my teeth. "I just love you."

The whistle blew and everyone started running but Stiles, who stood stock still, frozen in shock. I threw him a wink, pecking him once more on the cheek before darting off, melting into the crowd and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I kept towards the front of the group, but let Isaac and the twin-alpha-wolves get far ahead. Whatever kind of battle they had going on, I sure as hell didn't want to be a part of it.

I smelt the blood before I saw anything, and I was glad I'd fed that morning so I could handle it. I was used to seeing dead bodies, so it didn't faze me. The girl behind me, however, wasn't quite so nonchalant. She let out a piercing scream, taking a quick step back and tripping over a fallen branch. Murmurs followed as the crowd slowed, all gathering around the tree the corpse was tied to.

A hand slipped into mine, and I looked over at Stiles, who was staring at the body with regret. "Do you need to leave?" he asked me from the corner of his mouth, and I found his concern eternally sweet.

"I can handle it," I whispered back, squeezing his hand tightly.

There were mutters through the group of kids, everyone standing around staring at the gruesome sight. Somebody must have called ahead, because only five minutes later the Sheriff was pushing his way through the surrounding kids. "Get out of the way! Get back!" he snapped sternly. "Get this cordoned off before they trample every piece of evidence. Get these kids _out of here_!"

"Dad, look," Stiles spoke up, hand slipping from mine as he moved over to his father, gesturing at the body. "It's the same as the others, you see?"

"I see it," he nodded. "Do me a favour, go back to school. Coach, give us a hand here?" he asked when nobody moved.

"You heard the man!" the teacher shouted. "Nothing to see here! Probably just some homeless kid!"

"Coach," Scott said sadly. "He was a senior."

Coach sighed heavily, hand going to his mouth. "He wasn't on the team, was he?" he asked indelicately, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

Another scream rocked the area, a blonde girl trying to fight her way through the deputies to get to the boy who was no doubt her significant other. "See the way the twins looked at each other?"

"Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?" Stiles countered.

"Nah," Isaac shook his head. "They knew."

"The kid was strangled with a lead, alright? Am I the only one recognising the lack of werewolf-itude in these murders?"

"You think it's a coincidence that they turn up and people start dying?!"

"Well, no, but I still don't think it's them."

"I'm with Stiles," I said bluntly.

Isaac snorted derisively, "Big surprise."

I shot him a steely glare. "I don't think it's a coincidence they show up in town and people start getting murdered. But, come on, what kind of self-respecting werewolf strangles their victims? No, if it was as cut and dry as the alpha pack doing it, it wouldn't be a three-fold death, and it sure as hell wouldn't just be virgins."

"Scott?" Isaac turned to the other beta expectantly, eyebrows raised as he awaited an answer. Stiles crossed his arms, curious who his best friend was going to side with.

"I don't know yet," the wolf answered diplomatically.

"You don't know yet?" Stiles echoed.

"Well, he's got a point," he responded, nodding his head at Isaac. Stiles stared at puppy-dog eyes incredulously. "Seriously dude, human _sacrifices_?"

"Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow sticks, hair _literally_ grows from your cheeks and then will _immediately_ disappear, if I were to stab you right now it would just magically heal – and let's not forget that my _girlfriend_ can hypnotise people with eye contact, doesn't have a_ heartbeat _and drinks _blood_ to stay alive, but you're telling me that you're having trouble grasping human sacrifices?"

Scott sighed tiredly. "That's a good point too."

"I don't care," Isaac grunted. "They killed that kid, they killed the girl that saved me, and I'm going to kill them too."

"Ruthless," I smirked at him degradingly. "I like it."

"I thought you said you were on Stiles' side?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going to pass up an opportunity to kick some werewolf ass."

* * *

"Jules?"

"Hm?" I hummed, looking up from my book to Stiles, who sounded far meeker than usual. I blew a strand of raven hair from my eyes, focusing on my boyfriend's face, worry shooting through me as I saw the angry red mark on his cheek. "What they hell happened?" I asked, dropping what I was doing and shooting to my feet. I pressed my palm to his uninjured cheek, turning his head so I could get a better look at the mark.

"I asked Kyle's girlfriend if he was a virgin and she slapped me," he admitted with a wince.

"Well was he?" I asked, brushing my cool fingertips over the bruise.

"Nope," he shook his head.

"Well there goes your virgin sacrifice theory."

"Not necessarily," he muttered, stepping closer to make sure we weren't overheard. "What if it's sacrifices in threes? Three virgins, then maybe, I don't know, three people who own little dogs?" I narrowed my eyes at the kid, wondering if he was for real. "Oh God," he breathed, a far away look in his eye. "Lydia has a little dog!"

My eyes rolled before I could stop them, but luckily he didn't catch the movement. "Go on," I waved him off, knowing there was probably no stopping him. "Go find her."

"You're literally the best," he said in a rush, leaning down to peck my cheek affectionately before disappearing into the throng of students.

I smiled after him, shaking my head fondly. That's when a familiar boy rushed passed me, heart hammering in his chest. "Scott?" I asked in confusion, instantly changing directions and following after the wolf. As I jogged, the closer I got to the source, the more I could hear a werewolf growling and Allison pleading Isaac's name.

Worry gripped my chest, and I sped up, following close on Scott's heels. We traced the sounds to a janitors closet in the East wing of the school, and it was obviously correct, a vending machine pushed in front of the door, locking the pair inside.

"Help me!" Scott groaned, already working on pushing it out of the way. I pressed my palms to the machine and shoved, my strength combined with his had us forcing the object away from the door. Scott wasted no time in ripping it open, darting inside and tossing Isaac out by his collar.

The beta slid across the floor, ending up at my feet. His arm snapped up and caught me around the ankle, claws digging into my flesh. With a pained grunt I kicked him in the face, but the glowing eyed wolf only snarled in response.

Scott reappeared, wrapping his fingers tightly around the younger wolf's throat. "_Isaac_!" he all but roared, the sound making Isaac instantly stand down, and even making a shiver run down my spine. If I wasn't mistaken, he almost sounded...like an alpha.

Scott's first priority was Allison, so once he was sure Isaac was himself once again, he leapt to her side. Breathing in, I flinched at a smell of fresh human blood, eyes snapping to Allison who was holding her bleeding arm in pain. "I'm okay. I'm fine," she assured us, meeting my eyes briefly and nodding to reassure me.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," Isaac muttered distraughtly from his place on the ground by my side.

"It's not his fault," she said to Scott, who looked absolutely ropeable.

"I know," he told her calmly. "I guess now we know they want to do more than get you angry. They want to get someone hurt."

"So are we going to do something?" Isaac asked in a steely voice.

"We sure as hell better be," I growled with barely restrained anger, hands clenched into fists at my side. "Because I can't handle this 'high road' shit any longer."

"Yeah, we are going to do something," Scott nodded with a deep frown on his face. "We're gonna get them angry. _Really _angry."

The plan was simple, and it soon found me out in the daylight, standing guard over Allison while she hot wired one of the twin's bikes. It was an interesting idea, and I wasn't entirely sure how it would pay off. The others said something about boys loving their vehicles like children, but it sounded weird, so I stopped listening after that.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" a young teacher asked, approaching us with an infuriated look on her already lined face.

I caught the authority figure by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks the moment our eyes met. "You're going to go inside and forget you saw anything," I instructed her, pupils dilating as I worked my magic.

"I'll forget I saw anything," she echoed lifelessly. I blinked and she spun around, marching back the way she'd come.

"Handy," Isaac spoke up once she was out of sight, arms crossed over his sweater. The bell rang from inside the building and Isaac jumped nervously. "How long is this going to take?" he asked Allison impatiently.

She smirked coyly, and not a second later the bike started up, motor rumbling in the warm air. The hunter began telling the werewolf exactly how to ride the thing as he straddled it. I had to admit, the motorbike definitely did something for him. Something good.

I wondered what Stiles looked like on a motorbike.

Before I could explore _that_ fantasy any further, Isaac was heading straight for the front doors, helmet securely over his face. "Wanna take a shortcut to the action?" I asked Allison, and she turned to me with a confused frown.

"What does that-"

I didn't bother waiting for her consent. Something told me she ultimately wouldn't mind. I just hoped she didn't get motion sickness. I wrapped my arms around her, lifting her with ease and legging it into the school. I passed Isaac on the bike with ease, only coming to a stop once I found a large enough crowd, allowing us to go unnoticed.

Allison took a deep breath when we stopped, stepping away from me on shaky legs. "Do that often?" she asked lightly.

"I live for it," I told her jokingly (and slightly honestly) and she giggled breathlessly.

"You have got to be kidding me!" that English teacher barked in sheer disbelief, heels clicking on the floor as she strode towards the twin now holding the bike. Allison and I stepped to the front of the crowd, meeting with Scott and Isaac who were watching the scene with smug smirks. "You realise this is going to result in a suspension?"

When the twin turned to glare at us, Allison muffled a giggle in her hand, Isaac smirked widely, Scott wagged his eyebrows and I poked my tongue out childishly. He growled so quietly only us supernaturals could hear, and the sound made my smirk widen.

It felt good to be king.

* * *

I munched on one of Stiles' twizzlers, having swiped them from his locker. They weren't totally terrible, and I figured the kid wouldn't mind me eating them; he always seemed pleased to find me eating at all.

"What are you doing on my Jeep?"

I looked up from the tattoo magazine I was scanning, idly searching for something that caught my eye. I glanced down to where I was perched on the hood of his precious car before looking back up and shrugging at the owner helplessly. "The ground wasn't as comfortable," I responded, letting the magazine slide shut before slipping off the vehicle, shoving the reading material into my shoulder bag and stepping closer to Stiles, pecking him once on the lips before holding up the jar of twizzlers. "Want one?"

"Are you offering me my _own_ candy?" he asked incredulously, though I could see the amusement shining through.

I grinned at him mischievously, spinning around on my feet and wandering over to the passenger side door. Stiles huffed jokingly, walking around to the driver's side and unlocking it, both of us sliding into the car. "So, how are we spending our free period? My place or yours?" I asked with a smirk as he turned on the radio, fiddling with the buttons for a minute before settling on a soft rock station.

"Neither." I raised an eyebrow expectantly. "We need to make a stop first."

Stiles talked on the drive to the animal clinic. He talked about how he wished his father knew everything, but that he knew he didn't – and couldn't – so he was going to someone he knew _did_ know everything.

We joined hands as we made our way into the building, the bell tinkling as we pushed open the door.

"You two are out of school early," the good doctor commented, appearing behind the counter, watching us with interest.

"Free period, actually," Stiles replied, squeezing my hand once more before letting go and shoving his own hands into his pockets. "I was heading home to see my dad, and – well, I guess you heard people are kind of getting murdered again. It's his job to figure it out."

"I gathered as much from the 'Sheriff' title," he responded in a way I would almost describe as sassy.

"Yeah...but it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information – and we all know he's missing pretty much half the story here, right? So, then I started thinking and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information; someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here," Stiles paused, taking a breath as he met the older man's eyes. "You."

After that it seemed like it would be impossible to shut the kid up. He rambled, talking more at the vet than to him. He tripped over words about other three-fold deaths throughout history, pulling out facts that not even I was aware of.

"...they also found pollen-grains in his stomach – guess what favourite druid plant that was," he continued, and the doctor pulled a familiar looking plant out of a nearby jar.

"Mistletoe," he answered holding out the offending sprout.

"I'm just telling you everything you already know, aren't I?" Stiles sighed tiredly before a rare expression of anger overcame his handsome face. "Then why aren't you_ telling us_?!"

"Maybe because when you've spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away, denying it, lying about it, becomes a pretty powerful habit," he told us sadly.

Stiles looked momentarily regretful. "You have the heart and knowledge of a warlock," I spoke up, eyeing him thoughtfully.

His lips twitched, but his expression remained mostly blank. "It's not the first time I've been told so."

"Alright, so this guy, is he a druid?" Stiles spoke up, leaning further across the table as he awaited an answer.

"No," he shook his head. "It's someone copying the centuries-old practise of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word 'druid' means in Gaelic?"

I frowned, memories from years upon years ago beginning to resurface. "Wise oak," I said gently, folding my hands together on the cool metal of the table and watching the doctor closely. "I know many druids, they're a peaceful people. I can't image any scenario in which one would resort to murder."

Deaton nodded his head. "The Celtic druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers, and scholars. They weren't serial killers."

"Yeah, well this one is." A phone buzzed, and Stiles pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the screen for a moment before answering. "Hey, I can't talk right now," he said to whoever was on the other end, sounding as impatient as he felt.

"_The music teacher – he's gone._" It was Lydia's voice on the other end, making me pause at how hysterical she sounded.

"Wait-what?" Stiles asked confusedly.

"_He never showed up for class._"

"Okay, are you sure he's missing?"

"_Not just missing_," she responded shakily. "_Taken_."

"We'll be there in ten minutes," I called loud enough for her to hear, and with a mutter of reassurance, Stiles hung up, turning to the doctor with concerned eyes. "Can you follow us in your car?" I asked him before my boyfriend could say anything. "We think we've found the next victim."

He nodded, "I'll lock up the clinic and be right behind you."

Stiles and I filed from the room, stepping out into the sun and making our way to the car, waiting just beside it until he finished closing his business, heading over to where his modest sedan was parked a few spaces down from the Jeep. With a nod of acknowledgement we all slid into our vehicles, Stiles pulling out first, the doctor following.

"So you know druids, huh?" Stiles asked conversationally once we were on the main road. "Like, real-living-actual-proper-druids?"

"They're not as uncommon as you think," I replied, knowing he was grateful for the small distraction. "Though most do live regular lives, so few live as they once did; living off the land, keeping to the forests. All my druid friends are modern as they come. One even owns an internet cafe."

"Huh," he hummed interestedly. "And how do you meet them? Is there some kind of meet-up club or a website or something? How do you supernaturals find each other?"

"Through people," I shrugged, idly staring out the window, watching the sky as it slowly darkened with thick clouds, wondering when it would give way to rain. "It's a community. Somebody always knows somebody, no matter which species you're brought into."

"I'd love to meet a witch one day," he admitted after a moment, glancing over at me sheepishly. "To see magic done firsthand, and know it isn't an illusion."

"That can certainly be arranged," I told him with a smile, reaching across to lightly run my fingertips along the back of his hand where it hung lazily from the gearshift. I watched his face for a minute, unable to help grinning when his heart fluttered. I would never tire of the sound, and it would be the thing I missed most when I eventually turned him. "You're strong."

He turned to look at me, raising an eyebrow enquiringly. "You're saying this _why_?"

I smiled over at him softly. "I just wanted you to know that you're the strongest person I know. The strongest person that I've _ever_ known. Stronger than me, at any rate."

He snorted like what I'd said was ludicrous. "A sixteen year old boy is stronger than a two hundred year old vampire?" he asked dubiously.

"Okay, so maybe I'd beat you in an arm wrestle," I allowed with a smirk. "But if I'd been in the same situation as you when I was human," I shook my head, dreading to even think of how that would have gone down. "Surrounded by so much...of this. I don't think I could do it. But _you_ do it beautifully."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Jules," he grinned playfully and things were quiet for the next three minutes as we made our way down the street the school was on. "For what it's worth," he added as he pulled into an empty parking space. "You're the strongest person I know too."

I smiled at him, reaching up to brush my knuckles down his face affectionately before cracking open my door and dropping onto the warm pavement.

"Lead the way," Deaton told us gently once he'd parked and gotten out, gesturing for us to move in front of him.

We led him through the back of the school, lessening the chance of somebody seeing him and asking questions. "Lydia," Stiles said as soon as we stepped into the music room, crossing the space to stand next to her, eyes sweeping her form, looking for any hint of an injury. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, nodding politely at Deaton and I as we filed in after him.

"What did you find?" the doctor asked her, moving to her side and eyeing the blood smeared on the top of the piano. She said nothing, picking up a palm-sized phone and tapping on the screen twice, some kind of chant beginning to fill the room. "Can we get a copy of this?" he requested, frowning as he listened to the tribal sounds.

I moved with Stiles, both of us heading over to the teacher's desk. The human began rummaging through the draws while I speed-read the documents sitting on top of the wood piece. "Hey, doc," Stiles piped up. "Any help would be – uh – helpful."

"Each grouping of three would have it's own purpose," the older man began. "Gives some type of power; virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors..."

"Wait," he cut him off, apparently finding something within the drawers. "Could that also be like a soldier?"

"Absolutely."

Stiles held up a photograph, showing a man who I assumed was the music teacher standing with his bride, wearing a full armed forces uniform. "Kyle was is ROTC with Boyd," he added, slapping the photo down on the desk.

"That's gotta be it," he replied seriously. "That's the pattern. Where's Boyd?"

"He's probably home by now, I'm going to try and get him on the phone," he responded, digging his phone from his pocket and moving to the other side of the room.

"Look, I hate to be the wet blanket, but wouldn't this guy need a _human_ warrior?" I asked with a confused frown. "Why would they take Boyd – a werewolf – when it wouldn't do them any good as far as sacrificial power goes?"

"Lydia," Deaton spoke up, and I glanced at the girl, whose face was contorted in concern. "Something wrong?"

"No, I mean...I just thought of someone else with a military connection," she told us, painted lips pulled into a heavy frown.

Stiles looked up from where he was standing, "Who?"

"Mr Harris."

"Oh," I sighed, thoroughly relieved. "Good. I thought you were going to say it was someone important."

Lydia's worried expression hardened into a fierce glare. "Come on," Stiles stepped between us before any unnecessary drama could start. "Let's go to the chemistry room, see if we can't find him before jumping to any conclusions."

The walk to the second floor was tense, even Stiles wasn't stupid enough to try and spark a conversation. Lydia was the one who knocked on the door, calling out the teacher's name cautiously. There was no answer, and the girl's heart sped nervously in her chest.

"This is just one of many possibilities," Deaton commented as we slid into the empty room. "He could have simply left for the day."

"Not without this," Stiles argued, holding up a laptop case. I moved to his side, pulling open a drawer and rustling through it absently, not even sure what I was looking for. "This test is graded 'R'," he added after a beat, holding up the paper with the large red letter written on the front.

My eyes swept over the desk, eyes narrowing as I caught another odd letter in the pile. "And I've been through high school enough times to know 'H' also isn't a typical letter grade," I mentioned, snatching the test and holding it up for the others to see.

Deaton took the pages from us, eyeing them thoughtfully for a second before looking back at the messy pile of graded papers. He sorted through them, laying them out until the red letters spelt out a familiar word, one I'd heard more than once over my many years in Europe.

"Stiles, you remember that I told you 'druid' is the gaelic word for 'wise oak'?" he said, staring almost unseeingly across the room.

"Yeah," my boyfriend muttered cautiously.

"If a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a 'dark oak'. There's a Gaelic word for that as well."

I blinked down at the offending word, feeling sick to my stomach. Life in this town would never be easy, would it?

"Darach."

* * *

The phone rang out once, but I wasn't letting him get out of it that easily. I rang again, and this time he picked up, sounding more irritated than anything. "What?" Kol snapped through the line.

"I need you to leave the house."

"What?" he asked again, this time in surprise rather than annoyance. "I thought you said-"

"Not permanently," I growled back, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see. "Just for the night. Go to a bar, go back to some girl's place; I don't give a shit. But if you're there when I get home, I'll make your life a living hell."

"Ah – _I see_," he muttered, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. "How long should I stay out? Would an hour suffice? I doubt your little pet would last even a fraction of that time anyway-"

"Kol," I snapped angrily, glancing out the window of the jeep where Stiles was standing by his front door, talking to his dad in low tones. "I swear to _God_-"

"Yeah, yeah," he hummed, clearly less than interested in my threats.

"Don't come back until the sun's up," I instructed him quickly as Stiles bid his father a goodnight, holding his backpack over his head as he ran through the rain to the car. "You hear me?"

"Don't think you don't owe me," he said right before I hung up, but I couldn't have cared less, rolling my eyes again and pocketing my phone just as Stiles all but dove into his seat, door slamming shut behind him.

"Everything good?" I asked conversationally as he started the car, engine rumbling beneath us, heat softly blowing on our faces and soft jazz filling the cab.

"Yeah," he nodded, pulling out onto the road and heading towards the main road, on the way to my house. "How do you think Lydia's handling everything?"

The last person I wanted to talk about was Lydia, but I didn't want to make him feel bad for bringing her up. "She's had all summer to grow accustomed to the supernatural," I told him reassuringly. "I think she's okay."

He nodded silently, lips pursed as he thought. "Do you know what she is?" he eventually asked, crease appearing between his brows.

"What do you mean?"

"Well I think it's obvious to everyone that she's _something_," he responded blatantly. "I just wish I could figure out what it is."

I had some ideas, but the last thing I wanted was for it to get back to the girl that I was going around calling her 'psychic' or 'banshee' behind her back. It was best to wait until I had some definitive evidence before I went blabbing about my theories.

Things were quiet once again until he finally pulled into my driveway, taking the keys from the ignition, cutting off the music and plunging us into darkness. "Think we should wait for the rain to die down, or should we make a run for it?" he asked softly, leaning forwards to eye the water hitting the windshield.

"Run for it," I answered him with an impish grin, not hesitating to crack open my door and step out into the torrential downpour. I figured a little water wouldn't hurt, so I stayed where I was, waiting for Stiles to slip from his side, locking the Jeep behind him as he ran around the vehicle to meet me. I smiled at him, though he probably couldn't tell with his eyes full of water. I took his hand, tugging him through the rain and up my front steps, finally coming to a stop on my porch where the wet couldn't reach us.

Not that it mattered much, considering we were already soaked to the bone.

I slipped my front door key from my front pocket, sliding it into the lock and pushing it open, tossing the keys and my phone on the table just inside the door before making sure Stiles was inside and closing it tightly, locking it just to be safe.

I paused, still facing the door, my damp palms pressed to the blue surface.

Where did we go from here? Did I say something first? Did I just start things? Fuck, I hadn't been so nervous since I was human, these sort of things usually just..._happened_. I didn't have to work for men, they came to me, and things just spiralled. It was different with Stiles. Up until this point we had rules, we had lines that we both thought we couldn't cross.

"Jules?" Stiles asked unsurely, and I realised I hadn't turned the light on, leaving us in an encompassing darkness that probably made the human uncomfortable.

I reached my hand out, flicking on the light, a warm glow filling the room that made Stiles blink as his eyes adjusted. "Do you want something?" I asked gently, turning around to face him, forcing a calm smile to spread across my lips.

He knew me too well, suspicion on his face as he observed me closely. "Jules-"

"Tea? Coffee? Cereal?" I continued, striding passed him, flicking on lights as I went, making my way through into the kitchen. "I'd offer you something more, but that's about the extent of my cooking skills – as you well know. I have the things for pasta, if you want to help me cook it. We could also go with a nice salad? Uh, I think I have ingredients for a simple stir-fry..."

Okay, so I rambled when I was nervous.

"Jules, are you okay?" Stiles asked, heart speeding up in his chest. He stayed on the opposite side of the counter to me, and I hated the distance between us but did nothing to get rid of it. "Is something bothering you?" He'd caught on, not surprising since I wasn't usually one to babble under normal circumstances. I pressed my palms to the bench, gathering my thoughts and feelings.

I needed to stop being such a...pussy.

I grit my teeth for one moment, trying to quell my nerves, squeezing my eyes shut tight like it would somehow help me. "You said you_ loved me_."

There, it was out. Only, the anxiety didn't lessen. As the silence stretched on, it only got worse.

Finally, he sucked in a deep breath, heart hammering so fast that in the back of my mind I was genuinely concerned about the possibility of a heart attack. "So did you."

So he'd definitely caught it then. I winced, wondering where to go from there.

"Jules," he said my name so gently, it made me ache. "Jules, look at me." Reluctantly I spun around, my sparkling emerald gaze colliding with his deep caramel stare. His heart stuttered again, and I watched him with vulnerable eyes, wondering how he was going to move. "Did you mean it?" he asked, sounding honestly doubtful.

My eyes widened and I took a step closer to him, stopping myself from reaching out to him. "Of _course_ I meant it," I breathed, incredulous that he would question it at all. Suddenly, a spike of fear stabbed through me and I sucked in a sharp breath. "...Did _you_ mean it?" I asked unsurely, clenching my hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking.

"_Yes_!" he blurted without hesitation, taking several steps around the counter, coming to a stop in front of me, just out of touching distance.

I stared at him with pure wonder. "I don't deserve it," I mumbled, simply drinking him in, observing the way his chest moved with his breaths.

"Well, believe it or not, you can be wrong sometimes," he retorted with a hesitant smirk. "And this happens to be one of those times."

My eyes swept over him once more, appreciating the way his white teeshirt clung to his body, still wet from the rain. A droplet of water rolled down his chin, running down his neck and disappearing between those two brilliant collarbones. "I could hurt you," I said, more to myself than to him. "And it could be a mistake..." His face scrunched in adorable confusion, not sure where I was taking the conversation. Bloody hell, who cared about the reasons I couldn't anymore? "Fuck it."

He opened his mouth, probably to ask me what the hell I was on about.

I silenced him with my lips, palms smacking against his cheeks as I pulled him in to me. He floundered for one long moment, not sure where to put his hands, lips still against mine, but eventually he got into the rhythm of things, one set of fingers curling around the back of my neck, the other sliding down to my waist to clutch at my hipbone. His lips pressed against mine more firmly, a soft sigh escaping him as he fell into the embrace.

I wanted more; I was sick of restraining myself.

My hands dragged up into his hair, and I gave a firm tug. He jumped at the feeling, moaning slightly as I licked at the seam of his mouth. I took a step forwards, pushing him backwards until his spine bumped into the edge of the counter, making him grunt as it dug into his back. I practically climbed him, sucking on his tongue for a long moment as I rocked into him. He pulled away quickly, sucking in a deep breath of – unfortunately – necessary air before dipping back down to rejoin our lips.

The second break seemed to ignite something within him, and suddenly he was pushing me, gently forcing me back until I hit the wall. He pressed the length of his body against me, kissing me sloppily – not that I minded – and groaning as his hands found mine. His fingers curled around mine tightly, lifting my arms until they were pinned above my head. Now it was my turn to moan, completely turned on by the way he suddenly took control.

He tilted his head, kissing me harder, instinctively rolling his hips into mine, the zip of his jeans dragging across the zip of my own, making a delicious friction that I instantly wanted more of.

I knew there was only so far we were going to be able to get against the wall of the kitchen, so I begrudgingly pulled my lips from his, slipping my wrists free to curl them around his hips. "Hold on to me," I breathed into his ear, and he barely had time to ask why before we were standing in my bedroom.

I didn't bother giving him time to recover, diving right back into another kiss, licking at his lips gently. He sucked in a breath before pressing back into me, hands running down my sides until they ended up at my hips. Hesitantly, like he wasn't sure it was okay, his fingers dipped up under my shirt, brushing the cool skin of my hips.

I sighed happily at the contact, deciding more of it was a sheer necessity, pulling away from him to take the time to grab the hem of my shirt, lifting it up and over my head in one smooth move. He swallowed loudly, eyes sweeping over my chest, barely covered by the blue material of my lace bra. There wasn't much light in the room, the only source coming from the streetlight shining in through my open window, the colour a blueish glow when combined with the silver of the luminous moon.

He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't want him to ruin it by opening his mouth, so I dove forwards once more, cupping his face and dragging him to me, hands quickly finding their way down his broad shoulders to the small of his back, where I slipping my hands under the dripping wet white shirt, brushing the soft skin at the base of his spine.

His breath hitched, and I suppressed a smug smile as I nipped at his lower lip, lightly dragging my fingernails down his back. Eventually the urge for more skin-on-skin contact got too much, and I grasped the bottom of his shirt, yanking it up and over his wet hair. His arms got tangled in it for a moment, and I pulled back more to giggle. He grumbled something unintelligently under his breath, face flushed with red as he breathed heavily. I laughed again, moving forwards to softly press my forehead against his, and that time he couldn't help but chuckle breathlessly with me.

Finally I managed to get it off of him, and it dropped to the floor. Even though I wanted to look at him, I needed to touch him more, so I jumped back on him, one hand curled around the back of his neck and the other pressed to his chest, right over where his heart was thundering just under the skin.

I kissed him thoroughly, dragging my lips over his firmly, enjoying the way he shivered slightly when I ran a hand through his messy hair.

I pulled away from him, letting him finally breathe for more than a moment, instead making my way down his neck, finally getting my lips on those glorious collarbones. When I got to where I wanted to, I pressed my lips to him and sucked, running my tongue over the smooth skin, softly nibbling it. I kept going, loving the way he groaned with need, one hand combing through my long hair, even going so far as to tug lightly.

I worked my way back up his neck, stopping this time at his pulse-point to suck once again, licking his pinched skin gently, biting it. As I inhaled I got a whiff of his blood, so easily accessible; just under the skin. I pulled back abruptly, snapping my jaw closed resolutely and gritting my teeth, eyes on the hickey beginning to form on his otherwise unblemished skin.

"Jules," he exhaled through heavy breaths, looking at me with large, expressive eyes. "Jules-"

"I'm okay," I whispered as I stared back at him, a small smirk appearing on my no doubt swollen lips. "I'm better than okay."

He leaned closer, once more connecting our foreheads, so close his eyelashes brushed mine when he blinked. "Jules, are you sure-"

"God yes," I sighed eagerly, fingers running lightly over his ears before once again running through his wonderful hair. I surged forwards, pressing our lips together again. He groaned into my mouth as I pressed my chest into his, the lace rubbing against his sensitive skin. Finally he put those brilliant hands of his to good use, running them down to clutch at my ass.

I needed more and I needed it _now_. I pressed into him for a long moment before putting enough space between us that I could reach for his belt, undoing it with ease, all but ripping it from his pants and throwing it carelessly to the side, hearing it hit a wall and slide to the floor. I raked my fingernails over his hips again, moving my thigh up to nudge between his legs, feeling him straining against his jeans. He groaned at the contact, rocking into me with unadulterated need.

I stepped away from him, curling my hand around his neck and using it to pull him with me, moving backwards until the backs of my knees hit the edge of my king sized bed. I let myself fall back, dragging Stiles down with me. His hands snapped out instinctually, stopping his weight from entirely falling onto me, catching and holding himself over me. I leaned back up to kiss him again, my hands making quick work of his button and zipper, instantly tugging his jeans off his hips. He frantically kicked them off, making me have to stifle a soft giggle.

With a grunt he met my lips again, once hand in my still wet hair, the other brushing from the edge of my jeans before slowly – infuriatingly slowly – slid up to my chest. His fingers stopped just shy of my breast, like he wasn't sure he could do that. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, reaching down to wrap my hand around his, forcefully pulling his hand up to cover my left breast. He groaned loudly, and having a feeling he could handle it from there, I let go, moving to wrap my arms around his back, gently dragging my nails down his back once more, earning another deep groan; he definitely seemed to be a fan of scratching.

I filed that away for later.

His hand was having a blast on my tit, and I was getting sick of the barrier. With a grunt, I rolled over him, so his back was pressed to the sheets. Sitting back on his hips, he stared up at me foggily in the glow of the moon, pupils completely blown with lust. I made sure he was paying attention, before reaching back and unclipping the stupid bra. It fell off my body with ease, and I threw it over my shoulder haphazardly.

He gulped, eyes flickering over every inch of me like he wasn't sure where to look. I bit my lip to smother a smirk as I rocked my hips against the obvious bulge in his boxer-briefs, moaning once more at the friction, though nowhere near as loudly as he did.

I wasn't much of a screamer unless I wanted to be, but I could tell Stiles would definitely a vocal one. Finally, he seemed to get ahold of himself once more, grasping my hips and rolling us over once more so he was on top of me. He leaned down, shakily trying to undo the zipper of my leather pants. My own hands moved down to help him, and noticing that I could handle it better than him, he stopped his task, one hand moving to my bare breast.

His mouth moved down my jaw, he licked fleetingly at where my pulse point _would_ be, before moving down, and down, over my collarbone and along the top of my right breast. Finally his lips closed around my nipple, and I let out a breathy sigh as I held one hand to his head, keeping his mouth exactly where it was as I fought to pull off my pants. They were soaking wet, and therefore sticking to my skin.

Stiles pulled back for a beat to help me pull them off, then he was right back at my tits, kneading one and sucking on the other. I ran my fingers through his damp hair, my head thrown back as I took in the feeling of his mouth on my chest, his hardness pressing against my thigh. He was clearly having fun where he was, but I wanted more.

I ran my hands lightly down his side until I got to his briefs, and I briefly considered getting permission before deciding it was pointless and dipping my hand inside. Stiles crumbled on top of me, whimpering into my flesh.

I slid my hand up his length, and he cried out. Knowing it was a lot for him, I let go, my fingertips trailing over his hip bones teasingly. Gaining control over himself once more, he blinked at me glassily. "I-I don't know-" he tried to say, heart racing with nerves and anticipation.

"Touch me Stiles," I whispered to him, meeting his caramel gaze before running my eyes over his freckles and lips, absently noticing how gorgeous he looked.

"W-where?" he stammered, breath hitching when I wrapped my hand around him once more and gave a slow tug.

"Wherever. You. Want." I punctuated each word with a stroke, and a shudder ran down the human's spine. Finally, once he'd regained command of his hands, his free one moved to between my legs, only to pause before touching me, clearly hesitating. I smiled at how sweet he was, arching into him and forcing us to make contact. He gasped, feeling my damp panties and gingerly cupping me, unsure how to proceed.

Lips still tipped up, I reached down with the hand not stroking his length, placing it over his and moving it under the cloth. "Oh fuck," he breathed, panting as his eyes slid shut tightly.

"Like this," I murmured to him, coaxing his fingers into an even stroke. His face was scrunched up, barely able to handle what was happening. I pressed my lips to his, nibbling at his bottom lips then lapping my tongue over the mark affectionately. With an only slightly impatient push, I persuaded his fingers inside of me. Stiles gasped, rutting against my other hand, which had yet to break rhythm on his cock.

I knew he wouldn't last long, he was inexperienced, and I had to take that into account. So I let go of him, and in one smooth move my panties and his boxers were gone, discarded on the floor beside my bed. I rolled us over, forcing him onto his back and straddling him.

He peered up at me with a hooded stare. I frowned, leaning down to kiss him again softly, before pulling back to meet his eyes with concern. "Are you sure-?"

"Please tell me you're not actually asking me that question," he panted, voice low and husky, making the area below my gut tingle.

I smirked, "Fair enough."

I sank onto him, and he gave a startled gasp, head instantly thrown back onto the pillows as he moaned. I bit my lip to contain my own sound of pleasure, lowering myself further onto him until our pelvises touched.

I stayed where I was, lips pressed together as I revelled in the feeling to being full for the first time in what felt like an eternity. I didn't think I'd ever gone that long without sex before. But the wait was worth it, because it was _Stiles_.

I rocked my hips, and he groaned, eyes clenched tightly as his hands fumbled for a place to settle, eventually finding a home on my hipbones. I rocked again, and this time he better controlled himself, merely sucking in a breath instead of making one of those delicious noises.

That wouldn't do.

I lifted myself up, dropping back onto him and huffing myself at the feeling. He grunted again, lips parting to whisper my name, so quietly that _I_ almost didn't hear it. "Stiles," I murmured back like it was a prayer – my first prayer in centuries. I began to move faster then, more desperately, both of us needed the friction. "Stiles," I said his name again, one hand moving to intertwine our fingers, the other grasping his other one, bringing it down between where we were so intimately joined.

Using soft, coaxing motions, he got the idea that rubbing my clit was something of a cheat, especially when I tightened around him, making him groan.

"Stiles, look at me," I commanded him, slowing my movements for a long moment, giving him enough clarity to peer up at me weakly. "I love you."

He needed to know, I couldn't handle it if he didn't. He nodded, groaning again. "I love you," he responded in kind, affection overflowing in his tone (though that could have been the approaching orgasm).

I swooped down to connect our lips once more, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and running it along his. He tried to move his other hand, the one tangle with mine, but I was having none of it. I needed him, I needed more.

I sped up again, and he threw his head back, rubbing me faster, more desperately.

I came first, making no other sounds than a soft gasp. I fluttered around him, and he let go, unable to take it anymore. His hips bucked several times as he finished, groaning into my mouth. "I love you," I whispered into his lips again, squeezing his hand tightly and waiting for him to ride it out.

Finally he sank into the mattress, completely boneless. He peered up at me through sleepy, hooded eyes. I swung off of him, biting my lip as he slipped out of me. I reached to the end of the bed, picking up the quilt thrown there haphazardly and pulling it up and over us.

I curled into his side. It was uncommon for me to do so, usually Stiles was the one wrapped around _me_ like an octopus. But I felt fond and warm in a way I hadn't felt in far too long. I tucked my head in the spot between his shoulder and ear, pressing my lips to his clammy skin. "I have to call Scott," he muttered, and I snorted a laugh, shaking my head at the human.

"In the morning, Romeo," I rolled my eyes, glancing up at his freckled face with a loving smile. "For now, just enjoy the moment."

Our legs were tangled together, and he snuggled closer to me, sighing contently into my hair.

"At least I can't be a virgin sacrifice anymore," he muttered sleepily into the dark as I trailed my fingertips over his smooth chest.

"You're welcome," I replied cheekily, and his lips twitched up in amusement.

We were silent. Then, "You know I'm in love with you, right?"

So he got sappy after sex. That was good to know.

I was going to comment, but he continued on, beginning to ramble – his default setting. "I just need you to know. I'm in love with you. Like, _Twilight_ in love with you."

"I thought we weren't comparing us to that train-wreck," I mumbled with a smile, gently rubbing my lips over his skin, inhaling his scent, pleased when I didn't feel the urge to bite. The hunger was there, of course, it never wouldn't be; but I was able to control it with relative ease.

"It's the best comparison I can come up with after that...thing."

"What thing?" I asked with a hidden but impish smirk.

"The _thing_ that just happened," he mumbled tiredly, head lulling to the side.

"You mean the sex?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "That."

I chuckled. "Go to sleep, Stiles," I told him, brushing my thumb gently over the skin above his beating heart. "And remember that I love you."

* * *

**A/N: Hope this was good for you guys, let me know what you thought of it!**

**Also, I'm getting pretty deep into the workings of that Bellamy/OC (The 100) story I was telling you about. I'm liking what it's looking like so far, and once I feel like I've written far enough into it, I'm gonna start posting. Hope you guys are still interested!**

**PS, do you like the songs at the beginning of each chapter? I'm thinking I might do that for this new story too. Let me know!**


	38. Give Me Novacaine

_Take away the sensation inside_

_Bittersweet migraine in my head_

_It's like a throbbing toothache of the mind_

_I can't take this feeling anymore_

_Drain the pressure from the swelling,_

_This sensation's overwhelming,_

_Give me a long kiss goodnight_

_And everything will be alright_

_Tell me that I won't feel a thing_

_So give me Novacaine_

Give me Novacaine – Green Day

* * *

I don't know how I found myself in a car with Allison and Lydia. All I remembered was Allison showing up at my house the day after the fight – the day after Derek died – and telling me that Stiles and Scott would need me, and that I should go with her and her red-haired friend. There were also some puppy-dog eyes thrown in there somewhere – which she obviously learned from Scott – and next thing I knew I was thrown haphazardly across the backseat of her car, legs on the seat beside me, jacket under my head as I idly flipped through a magazine she'd had lying on the floor in the back.

I didn't necessarily _want_ to be there. But she was right, Stiles and Scott might need me. And that was enough for me. So I lounged in the back, ignoring them as they chatted mindlessly, thinking over the last few days.

It'd been a bad idea from the start, I don't know why I even agreed to storm the bad guys' lair. It had seemed feasible at first, I didn't realise how wrong we all were until I had a shard of glass shoved through my unbeating heart by that Kali bitch. Luckily it wasn't wood, so I was able to walk away. Stiles had practically had a fucking heart attack when he saw the wound. He fussed for hours and didn't even sleep for a moment, too deep in 'pack-mother' mode to worry about himself.

It wasn't a wound inflicted by an alpha's physical person, so it healed rather quickly. Only an hour and a few bags of blood later my still heart was back in one piece and the jagged wound on my chest had smoothed back into unblemished pale skin. That hadn't stopped Stiles from smothering me, however. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't adore the extra attention.

I felt bad about Derek, angry at Kol, worried about Scott and Stiles and irritated at myself. It was a lot to feel at once, especially for someone who went over a century feeling nothing_ at all_.

Derek was my friend – kind of. I wouldn't say he _wasn't_ my friend, but I also probably wouldn't invite him to a party I was having. I suppose you could say I was mourning. He was a good guy ultimately, and he didn't deserve to die the way he did. That was the biggest tragedy: the way he died. It was needless. If we hadn't attacked, maybe he'd still be alive.

He'd probably also still be alive if Kol had actually shown up. I hadn't been so pissed at someone in a long time. He would have been a huge help. Bringing an Original to an alpha fight? Talk about an advantage. Of course though, he was 'too busy' to make an appearance, resulting in our ally's death. It was going to take me a while to get over that one.

Scott was injured, and Stiles was still raw from the whole thing. I was concerned (but then again, when _wasn't_ I concerned?) and more than a little worried. I couldn't have left them even if I'd wanted to. If Allison hadn't invited me in the car, I probably would have followed the bus on foot, that's how ridiculously loyal I was to those two misfits.

"Am I getting way too close?" the girl herself spoke up nervously, eyeing the bus in front of us warily. "I'm getting way too close, aren't I?"

"That depends, are you just following the bus or are you planning on mounting it at some point?"

I snorted loudly, the sound turning into an unattractive cackle. Lydia threw me a surprised look over her shoulder, and I instantly sobered, clearing my throat and pretending to be completely focused on the magazine in my lap.

"Yeah, I should back off," the brunette muttered with a wince.

"Well that also depends," Lydia continued. "Do you mean the bus or the ex-boyfriend you're currently stalking?"

She had a point. It was acceptable for me to be there, I was actually _dating _someone on the Godforsaken bus. Allison's only connection was an _ex_-boyfriend, so it was more than a little sad. "Well after what happened I'm not letting him out of my sight," she retorted, eyes focused on the back of the yellow bus. "And, by the way," she added for good measure, "this all started when he came knocking at _my _door."

"For what?"

* * *

"_So what're your ideas?" I called conversationally from my place in the kitchen._

_Stiles took a deep breath, apparently preparing for a speech. "Well, there's Cora, of course. I mean, mysterious _Hale_ shows up without warning, just happens to be part of a plan against us with the alpha back? More than slightly suspicious. Then there's Deaton. I mean, that guy just knows too much, y'know? And, I hate to say it, but Lydia isn't looking too innocent these days either-"_

"_I meant for dinner," I interrupted with an exasperated sigh, rolling my eyes at my human boyfriend._

"_Oh."_

_I chuckled, appearing in the doorway and gazing over at him sincerely."Tell me more about your theories," I insisted, blinking as I halfheartedly blew a strand of ebony hair from my eyes. _

"_Nah, it's fine," he shrugged, reaching forwards to pluck two DVD cases from the coffee table. "Battlestar Galactica or Firefly?"_

_I looked up, raising an eyebrow at Stiles, who was lounged on the couch, bare feet kicked up on the table as he surveyed the discs in his hands. "I don't care," I replied honestly, looking back at the report in my hands, wondering if the storm was over or if it was going to come back any time soon. _

"_You're useless," he responded over his shoulder, and a mischievous smirk lit up on my face. I silently put the paper down on the table, tiptoeing over to where he was. _

_I jumped, faster than he could see, straddling his waist in nothing but my underwear and his lacrosse jersey. "That's not what you were saying an hour ago," I murmured into his ear playfully, and his breath hitched, heart stuttering as he looked up at me with wide, attentive eyes._

"_I mean, maybe you are good for _something_," he told me coyly, clearing his throat and wincing as he repeated the words to himself silently, probably hoping they were as smooth as he meant them to be._

"_Yeah?" I purred with an impish grin, he nodded wordlessly and I couldn't help but lean into him, slanting my lips against his firmly, sighing in bliss at the contact. _

_I was distracted by Stiles, as usual, so I didn't hear the footsteps on the porch until the door was already thrown wide open and everyone's favourite teen wolf was rushing into the room. "Jules! Something's happening, we need you and-"_

_Scott stopped dead, staring at us; me, pants-less and straddling his best friend, and Stiles, red faced and wearing an opened button down._

"_Oh, my God," the wolf muttered in absolute shock, blinking at us, completely flabbergasted. _

"_Dude!" Stiles snapped, hands instantly moving to the hem of his jersey, tugging it further down my legs so it was properly covering everything. Scott cleared his throat, seeming to snap out of his surprise and spun on the spot, facing the wall, heart hammering in his chest._

"_Right, yeah – sorry," he mumbled awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. I smirked at his back, rolling my eyes and winking at Stiles playfully before swinging off of him, crossing my arms over my chest and raising an eyebrow at the embarrassed wolf._

"_What'd you need, boy wonder?" _

_He turned back around, instantly covering his eyes when he saw I was still half-naked._

"_Prude," I teased him, and he cleared his throat a second time, wincing before turning back to me, eyes focused on my face, and _only_ my face._

"_Derek and the others, they found out where the alpha pack are staying," he told me in a rush, frowning as he spoke. "They're attacking tomorrow, calling it a pre-emptive strive."_

"_...and you want me to stop them?" I asked confusedly._

"_What?" he responded perplexedly. "No, I need you to come with us, help us fight them."_

_That made more sense._

"_Oh," I nodded, clicking my tongue and frowning like I was thinking about it, making Scott shift awkwardly. "Of course," I scoffed, rolling my eyes at his gullibility. "Tell me the plan, and Kol and I will be there."_

"_Whoa!" Stiles interjected, jumping to his feet as he hastily buttoned his top. "Aren't you going to consult me on any of this?"_

_I raised a warning eyebrow, "Last I checked I didn't have to run my every move through you."_

"_Uh, no," he bit back. "But I'd like to be involved in the decision making process if the decision involves potential bodily harm."_

"_I'll be fine," I told him easily, lifting one shoulder in a half hearted shrug._

"_That's what you always say," he responded with a heavy frown. "And you rarely are."_

* * *

I was pulled from my thoughts by a phone ringing, and I glanced out the windshield, realising I must have missed something when I saw we were suddenly in a long line of traffic.

"Hey Stiles," Lydia answered the call awkwardly, not very good at acting like nothing was wrong. "Yeah, just about to walk into a movie..."

"I know you guys are right behind us, put me on speaker." Lydia muttered uncomfortably, doing as she was told. "Okay look, Scott's still hurt," my boyfriend said, sounding as concerned as I felt.

"What do you mean still, he's not healing?" Allison asked with a worried frown.

"No, he's not healing. I think he's actually getting worse, the blood's turning like a black colour."

"Oh, that's bad," I commented, Stiles hearing it immediately.

"Jules?" he asked, sounding surprised. "They roped you into going with them? You willingly agreed to get into a car with Lydia?"

Lydia's head rolled back to shoot me an exasperated look, and I wasn't sure if it was meant for me or my boyfriend, so I merely clicked my tongue in response. "What's wrong with Scott?" I prompted him pointedly, leaning further out of my seat so I was closer to the phone.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked incredulously, voice melting into the usual sarcasm. "Do I have a PhD in lycanthropy? How am I supposed to know that?"

"We need to get him off the bus," Allison said expressly, pressing her fingers to her temple.

"And take him where?" Lydia countered smartly. "The hospital?"

"If he's dying...yeah."

"Not an option," I shook my head, and the hunter swung around to stare at me sharply. "Containment of the secret is our top priority. If they find animal DNA in his system, do you really think they'll let him go without questions? Without tests or experiments?"

Allison closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she collected her thoughts. "Stiles, there's a rest area about a mile up. Tell the Coach to pull over," she finally decided, speaking firmly, tone leaving no room for argument.

"I've been _trying_."

"Reason with him."

"_Reason?_ Have you met this guy?"

"Just try something."

He muttered a cuss under his breath before violently hanging up the phone. "Think he'll be able to do it?" Lydia asked gently, eyeing the back of the yellow school bus warily.

"I _know_ he'll be able to do it," I corrected honestly, and she nodded distractedly, twisting her hands together in her lap. The traffic started up again not too long after, and to everyone's surprise but mine the bus pulled in to the rest stop, people all but diving from the vehicle in their haste to get off.

Allison pulled into a spot behind the bus, and the second the vehicle had come to a stop I was out the door, feet barely making a sound on the pavement as I rushed (at a human pace) to the door of the bus. Inhaling, I got a face full of the smell of vomit, and my nose scrunched in distaste.

A moment later Stiles was hobbling down the steps, struggling to hold a vacant looking Scott upright. I stepped forwards, wrapping an arm around the other side of the wolf, lifting him with ease, taking the weight off of a puffing Stiles. "What did you do?" I asked my boyfriend with a disgusted cough, quickly joined by Allison and Lydia as they scrambled from the car, following behind us worriedly.

"Not important," he grunted back as Allison slipped in front of us, pushing the door to the public restroom open and allowing us to slip inside.

"Put him down here," I instructed quietly, frowning when the werewolf groaned in pain as we (I) lowered him to the dirty floor.

I crouched beside Scott once he was settled, gently lifting his shirt to peer at his wound. "Oh _God,_" Allison gagged, looking over my shoulder at the open wound, black blood pouring from the slashes in the tan skin. "Why didn't you tell us?" she asked distraughtly, covering her mouth with her hand. I softly prodded the lacerations, frowning deeply when he flinched at the touch.

"Sorry," the wolf mumbled halfheartedly.

"Juliet," Allison said from behind me. I winced in worry as I peered at my friend's sweat-covered face. Reaching up, I gently ran my thumb down his cheek, the action layered with friendly affection. I attempted to smile for him, and he attempted it back, neither of us doing very well. With a sigh I pushed myself to my feet, turning around to face the three teenagers in the disgusting restroom. "This shouldn't be happening," the brunette continued in distress. "I've seen him heal from worse than this."

"Okay, what do we do? Do we call an ambulance?" Stiles asked, clearly at a loss.

"Not an option," I shook my head sombrely.

"And what if it's too late? What if they can't help?" Allison asked, eyes watering, lips pinched tightly as she struggled to hold it together.

"We've gotta do _something,_" Stiles hissed back. "Jules, are you sure there's nothing you can do?"

My arms crossed, hating that I couldn't be more help. "I haven't exactly run with wolves at any point before this year," I murmured back, hoping I didn't sound too defensive. "The extent of my werewolf-medical knowledge is to trigger the healing process."

"Well, why don't we do that now?" he asked eagerly. "Break his arm or something?"

My eyebrows pulled together unhappily. "I _do_ know that black blood isn't a good sign," I told him forlornly. "The same thing happens to vampires when we get badly injured. A broken arm isn't going to be enough."

"Well how do _you_ deal with it?"

I levelled him a blank but honest stare, "blood."

"You know, it could be psychological," Lydia spoke up, and I probably shouldn't have been surprised by how much sense it made.

"What do you mean? Like psycho-somatic?" he questioned with a heavy frown.

"Yes, it's all in his head," she said simply with an irritated frown.

"Because of Derek," Stiles spoke up with wide eyes, staring down at his pained best friend. "He's not letting himself heal because Derek died."

I winced, scratching the back of my neck uncomfortably. Guilt ate at my insides, tumbling around in my gut painfully. The feeling was so sickening I had a sudden urge to flick the switch and make it all go away. Instantly, more out of desperation than anything, my hand snapped out to curl around Stiles'. He leaned into me, probably thinking it was for his benefit, when really it was out of a severe need for my own comfort.

Stiles was the reason I'd lasted this long with emotions. And he would never see me with the switch flipped. Not if I could help it.

"So what do we do?" Allison asked, bringing me back to the moment.

"Stitch him up?" Lydia suggested unsurely. Allison shot her a dubious look, and I pursed my lips, considering the suggestion. "I'm serious. Maybe all he needs to do is just believe it's healing."

I heard footsteps on the ground outside. Somebody was coming in. Reluctantly letting go of Stiles' hand, I slipped from the room, moving to the mouth of the bathroom and blocking the entry.

"Uh, can I help you?" the kid asked with a frown, oily hair slicked back.

"Bathroom's occupied," I drawled slowly.

He raised incredulous eyebrows. "All of them?"

"Yes."

He sighed, actually having the audacity to roll his eyes at me. "Look, I just-"

I caught his chocolate gaze, staring at him unblinkingly. Instantly his expression flattened, and his pupils dilated with mine. "You don't need to use the restroom," I told him melodiously.

"I don't need to use the restroom," he echoed unthinkingly, heart beating calmly in his chest.

"Now go away."

I blinked and without further fanfare he spun around, marching back out into the sun without a second thought.

I stayed where I was, looming in the doorway threateningly, death-staring anyone who dared come within my general vicinity. Eventually Stiles approached me from behind, coming to a stop beside me and turning to face me as Lydia slid around us politely, dead leaves crunching under her footsteps. "Are you okay?" I asked him gently, leaning into him inconspicuously.

"I will be when my best friend isn't on the brink of death," he responded with a heavy frown. I didn't reply, not knowing what to say. He sighed, running a hand down his face tiredly. "You never told me what happened."

I looked up at him confusedly. "Yes we did. We told you everything."

"Yeah, like it was a tenth grade book report," he retorted, clearly trying to maintain his snark while weighed down with worry. "You didn't tell me what _really_ happened."

* * *

"_Where the _hell_ are you?" I hissed into the phone. There was no answer, but that was probably because it was his voicemail. "You said you'd be here, and without you we may as well be lambs to the slaughter." I huffed, brushing my raven hair from my face. "Just, please _show up_ Kol."_

_I hung up the phone, sliding it into my pocket and eyeing the warehouse warily. "You're a two hundred year old vampire, right?" Boyd asked softly as we approached. _

"_At last count, yeah," I responded, my eyes bloody as I scanned the shadows._

"_Well, shouldn't that make you, like, super strong?"_

_My gaze slid to him, irritation clearly spread across my face, not appreciating the suggestion in his voice. I bared my teeth at him in a sneer, prepared to tear him a new asshole. "She's not as strong as an alpha," Derek spoke up softly before I had a chance to say anything. "We're stronger, but they're a hell of a lot faster."_

"_Why?" _

_It was a stupid question. What the hell did I know about the way the universe and the supernatural worked things out?"Balance," I responded nonetheless, sending the larger boy one last glare before focusing my attention on the building, familiar scents floating out from the smashed windows lining the walls. _

_We all fell silent, Boyd and Cora's footsteps making minimal sounds on the concrete, Derek and I completely soundless. _

"_You didn't come alone." Deucalion's voice was drawling, almost lazy as he spoke. The mere sound irritated me. My gums tingled as my fangs slid from their hiding place, pressing firmly into my lower lip. _

"_Yeah, this is Isaac," Scott responded, not knowing the backup that waited in the shadows behind him._

"_I'm not talking about Isaac."_

_Derek stepped forwards, feet crunching on bits of broken glass, face fully transformed. "You knew I would do this," Scott said, having the audacity to sound betrayed. "Derek, don't. You can't do this, and no one gets hurt. If someone else dies-"_

"_Him," the alpha of our ragtag pack growled through bulky fangs, pointing at Ducalion threateningly. "Just him."_

"_Just me?" the 'alpha-of-alphas' asked with a tiny smirk. "Now, how's a blind man find his way into a place like this, all on his own?"_

_I felt pathetic for not sensing them sooner. The crazy bitch dropped from a pillar to the side, the large dumb-looking one approached from behind Scott, and the wonder twins peered from over the top of a looming ridge. _

_Nothing more was said. Things went quiet for a long time, everyone waiting for someone else to make the first move._

_Finally, Derek snapped. He ran at Deucalion, only for the psycho bitch who had a serious problem with shoes leapt in front of him. Everyone took that as their cue, running at the opponent closest to them. Cora dove at the biggest one, which I personally thought was a bad move, but didn't have the time to bring up my concerns._

_Instead, all I could do was join in, running at the big guy and slipping in front of Derek's sister as he went to hit her. The blow hit me across the face, stunning me long enough for him to sink his claws into my side. _

_I yelped, flinching to the side and taking a second to recuperate as Cora jumped at him again, a vicious snarl, kicking him uselessly in his side. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself, running at the slab of a wolf, slamming my fist into his face. His head snapped to the side and blood spat from his lips, but he recovered embarrassingly quickly, swinging back around to try and slam his clenched fist into my face. _

_I ducked the attack easily, seeing it coming from a mile away. In the next moment I was behind him, on his back with one hand on his chin, the other at his temple. I froze just before committing the act. _

_Sure, he was the bad guy, but did I want to go back to that place? The place where I killed without thought or care?_

_Unfortunately, my indecision cost me, and he was reaching back, grabbing me by the skull and throwing my clean over his head. My body slammed into the concrete of the floor, the material cracking under the force. I heard the sounds of Cora attacking him again, but if I wasn't getting anywhere, the young girl didn't have a chance in hell._

_Boyd, who'd been waiting in the wings for an opportunity, jumped in, throwing himself at the looming wolf. He had a better chance, but I wasn't going to let him do it alone. With the oaf distracted, I slipped in, wrapping my decidedly smaller hands around his forearm and cracking it like it was a twig. He roared but continued to snap his jaws at Boyd, knowing the broken arm would heal eventually. _

_I stepped back as I felt someone come in behind me, and a moment later I spun around, catching the hand flying towards me. The bitch didn't spare the time to look surprised, merely snapping her jaws at me threateningly._

_Derek came up behind her, claws sinking into the flesh at her hip, making her grunt in barely concealed pain. She threw him off with a growl, throwing herself at me, slamming her fists into any part of me she could land a hit on. I hissed, feeling temporary bruises appear on my pale skin. Fleetingly, I thought that I hoped they faded before I saw Stiles again._

_I was getting pissed, and my anger made it easy to throw her off. She landed in a pile of broken glass, the scent of her disgusting blood filling the air. I grinned at her victoriously, but she lunged for me. A sharp pang of pain went through my chest, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. _

_I looked down at my chest, a large piece of broken, jagged glass sticking out from what was no doubt my heart._

_It hurt, but at least it wouldn't kill me. I wrapped my fingers around it, slicing my fingers open too, and yanked it from my chest, dropping the bloody shard to the dirty ground with only a pained grunt._

_Having had enough, I ducked from her reach, darting across the space, back to the looming guy in the white shirt, figuring I'd leave Derek to deal with the bitch. I wasn't expecting two hands to wrap themselves around my head, and I completely froze, knowing that one wrong move would have me out of action for who knew how long. I couldn't heal a broken neck like a I could a scratch._

_Things were silent and tense for a long moment."Kill him," Deucalion drawled lazily, and my eyes swivelled around to peer at where Boyd was incapacitated on the dusty floor, blood dripping from his lips."The others can go. You're beaten," he continued, wandering idly down the unmoving escalators. "Do it Derek." I struggled suddenly in the bitch's grip, realising what was happening. He wanted Derek to kill Boyd, not one of his own minions. "Take the first step."_

"_Are we serious with this kid?" the harlot holding me hissed incredulously. "Look at him. He's an _alpha_? To what? A couple of useless teenagers and a _vampire_?"_

"_Some have more promise than others," the leader muttered, and even I didn't miss the glance he threw at Scott._

"_Let him rise to the occasion then. What will it be Derek? Pack, or family?"_

_He didn't end up having to make the choice. There was an explosion of light, making everyone duck for cover. The distraction was enough for me to slip from the bitch's grip, saving myself a snapped neck – because those were never fun._

_The explosions kept coming, hitting the area in quick succession. Wolves were more sensitive to the light than vampires, so with only a slight wince I managed to make my way over to where the big guy was holding Cora down. I shoved him off of her with surprising ease, reaching down to roughly grasp her arm, dragging her to her feet._

_I tried to see where the lights were coming from, but I only saw the outline of a person. They were holding a bow though, so I knew instinctively that it couldn't be anyone other than Allison._

_Finally, the exploding arrows stopped, and all was still for a long, peaceful moment before Scott and the big guy were running at each other. They slammed into one another with a mighty thud, both thrown back by the sheer force of it. _

_The rest of us watched on, our instincts telling us not to step in. Scott steadied himself on the ground, glancing up and making me gasp as I saw the glowing ruby red of his eyes._

_He blinked and the colour was gone, eyes back to the usual fiery amber. _

_That shouldn't have been possible. And seeing the impossible happen left a sinking feeling in my gut. No good would come of that. I knew for sure._

_Derek lunged at the larger wolf, stepping into the fight and dragging his attention from Scott. In a way it was heroic, but mostly it was idiotic. I didn't want to get my neck snapped – or worse – so I hung back, fists clenched and ready to step in should the need arise. _

_I didn't realised they were at the edge until they were flying over it, and they were gone._

_Derek was gone._

* * *

"Jules?" I looked back at Stiles, his voice bringing me out of the memories. "What is it?"

I wanted to tell him how the guilt was eating at me, but I didn't feel like going into it in that moment. We had more important things to be focusing on. "Go make sure Isaac and Boyd are okay," I told him, jerking my chin in the wolves' direction. "Keep them in the loop."

"What are you going to do?"

I lifted my shoulder in a halfhearted shrug, "Guard the door."

He leaned closer like he was going to kiss me, but for some reason thought better of it, frowning to himself and moving across the lot and over towards the bus where the wolves were leaning against the yellow metal.

I glanced at the sky through the tint of my sunglasses, thinking about how I'd rather be at home in my bath with a glass of wine and/or blood. It seemed like only mere seconds later that I heard the familiar sound of fist hitting face, and I glanced back at the kids to see a crowd formed around what appeared to be Isaac beating the shit out of the present alpha twin.

Deciding nobody would wander into the toilets with that going on, I moved away from the door, carelessly shoving my way through the crowd until I stood against the tree, propped up on the side, watching with a gleeful smirk.

"Jules!" Stiles yelled over the shouts, tripping his way to my side. "You have to do something!"

I shot my human boyfriend a confused look. "Why?" I asked, genuinely not knowing what the problem was.

Stiles gave an irritated sigh then turned to weave his way out of the crowd. I turned back to the scene in front of me, grinning impishly as I watched Isaac beat the other wolf to a bloody pulp. Unappetising blood spilled from his mouth, and he too seemed somewhat amused by the turn of events.

"_Isaac_!"

I was ashamed to say I jumped, the sheer power in the voice taking me by surprise. The curly-haired wolf instantly stopped what he was doing, pulling away from the alpha and staring at an upright Scott in something like relief. Coach surged forwards, grabbing Isaac by the collar and forcibly yanking him away from the group, probably to tear _him_ a new asshole.

I glanced down at the bleeding alpha with complete apathy. He smirked up at me with blood dripping from his nose and down passed his lips. I considered spitting at him, but decided that, since it wasn't the 1800s, it might have been overkill.

"How's my favourite werewolf?" I asked Scott casually as Allison helped him onto the bus.

"Say it louder, I don't think the people on the freeway heard you," he responded, only half serious as he shot me a slight smile.

"_Please_," I rolled my eyes back at him amusedly, waving my hand at him nonchalantly. He laughed softly, the sound weak and tired, but I spared him the embarrassment by not mentioning it.

We filed down the isle, Scott in the lead as he led us down to the back of the bus. He slid into the backseat, Allison slipping in beside him. Lydia slid in beside her, crossing one leg over the other and immediately opening her phone.

I moved into the row just in front of the trio, settling myself up against the window, turning to face Stiles as he slipped into the spot next to me. Without thinking, I shuffled away from the window, moving until our hips pressed together. He glanced at me and his lips tipped up into a small smile, and I copied the action, lifting my sunglasses to throw him a wink.

_By God _I loved the kid, and finally, things seemed to be looking up.


	39. Eyelids

**A/N: Hope you guys like this chapter, ends with kind of a cliffhanger, but I think you'll forgive me...eventually.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, nor do I make any form of profit from this.**

* * *

_I'll face my fear of the sunrise _

_when I wake up with your hand inside mine._

_It's hard to say "good morning" _

_when it's followed with "goodbye"._

Eyelids – PVRIS

* * *

"I've seen worse."

Had he, though? The glowing lights of the sign for the motel were flickering on and off, mostly off more than anything. The whole place reeked of death and bad decisions. "Where have you seen worse?" Stiles asked incredulously, shouldering his bag as he stepped from the bus, turning back to intertwine his hand with me and pull me out after him.

I stepped onto the hard ground, gravel crunching under the thick soles of my boots.

The sound of Coach's whistle cut through the warm night air. "Listen up!" he shouted to the group of less-than-enthusiastic kids. "The meet's been pushed to tomorrow. This is the closest hotel with the most vacancies and the least amount of good judgement when it comes to accepting a bunch of degenerates like yourselves." He held out a handful of keys, "You're pairing up. Choose wisely."

"I've done the math, and I'm the odd one out," I muttered to Stiles. "I have to go with a pair."

"Come with Scott and I," he replied instantly. "_Obviously._"

"Juliet!" Coach barked, clearly realising the same thing I had. "You'll be bunking with those girls," he said, gesturing vaguely at Allison and Lydia.

My eyes locked onto his, expression dropping into a blank one as my pupils dilated. "I'll be staying with Stiles," I compelled him, voice like honey.

He blinked then snorted, making me blink back in surprise. That shouldn't have happened. "Nice try," he sneered, shaking his head at me amusedly. "You'll be with your own gender for the night." He turned around to face the loitering crowd, speaking loudly so they (and more specifically, I) could hear him. "And I'll have no sexual perversions perpetrated by you little deviants. Got that? Keep your dirty little hands to your dirty little selves."

I made a face at the teacher, and he made one right back, turning around and heading straight for the room closest to the reception desk. Before he slipped into the door, he looked over his shoulder, gesturing pointedly between our eyes, clearly trying to convey that he would be watching me.

"Did you give him vervain?" I asked Stiles once the mentally disturbed man was behind closed doors.

"_Coach_?" he asked incredulously, snorting at the mere thought.

"Yeah," I muttered, eyeing the closed door suspiciously. "You have a point."

"Come on," he said, squeezing our connected hands briefly before beginning to drag me towards the stairs. "I could seriously use a shower-"

"Oh, no you don't," Lydia piped up, stepping in our path, arms crossed over her chest. Her heart was pounding wildly under her sweater, and her fingers were tapping out an uneven beat on her arm.

"What's wrong?" I asked in concern, eyes sweeping the parking lot, looking for any hint of a threat.

"You're coming with us," she said, forcing a weirdly cheery tone to her voice. "It's girl's night."

I stared at her uncomprehendingly. "Girl's night?" I echoed blankly, blinking twice as I waited for the punchline.

"Yep," she nodded her head, giving a shaky breath. I continued to stare suspiciously. Finally her expression turned pleading, those big eyes of hers turning to liquid. "Please," she asked sincerely, and between her shaky limbs and racing heart, I got the feeling she was afraid of something. She hadn't been wrong about this sort of thing before, and that only made me want to stay with Stiles more.

"That sounds great!" Stiles injected before I could say anything. I turned to stare at him dubiously, eyebrows nearly hitting my hairline. "Girl bonding time. Get in some good...nail painting, and...pillow fighting..."

I reached up under the pretence of bringing him down to my level for a kiss, only to roughly grab his collar to yank him towards me, eyeing him dangerously. "What game are you playing, sweetheart?" I asked, my voice sickly sweet.

He gulped before whispering back to me in a rush, "Look, this is the perfect time for you to spend some time with Lydia and see what a great person she is. Maybe you two can get over this weird thing you have against each other and learn to be friends."

I grimaced. "But I don't _want_ to," I whined quietly, this time really cupping my palms around the back of his neck. I pushed myself onto my toes, our noses lightly brushing. "I'd rather stay with you, maybe help you in the shower..."

His eyes unfocused for a long few seconds before he physically shook his head in an effort to clear it. "Come on," he urged softly, caramel eyes narrowing pleadingly. I grit my teeth, wanting to say no, but feeling like I should say yes.

For once it wasn't Stiles' unfair puppy-dog eyes making me reconsider. The beef I had with Lydia was childish and petty. She didn't like Stiles; Stiles didn't like her; and she wasn't as shallow as I liked to pretend she was. I was running out of reasons not to be friends with her.

I let go of Stiles, turning to face a waiting Lydia with a blank face. "Girl's night sounds good," I bit out, trying to pretend like the words didn't taste like acid in my mouth.

"Good," she nodded curtly, readjusting the bag on her shoulder before turning around and marching over the stairs where Allison stood at the bottom, patiently waiting for us.

"I'm proud of you," Stiles mumbled with a smile, but I merely rolled my eyes.

"Have fun showering alone," I retorted, and his face fell. I bobbed up, pressing my lips to his cheek once before spinning around and following the path the girl's left to the room we were staying in. "I refuse to paint my nails, have anything put on my face, and I especially refuse to participate in 'gossip'."

Allison looked up at me flatly. "It's not _really_ a slumber party," she told me with a small smile.

"Then why can't I stay with my boyfriend?"

Lydia cleared her throat, looking away uncomfortably. "Don't you feel it?" she asked quietly, not meeting my eyes.

I understood what she meant instantly, though I wasn't sure why I was the one she was coming to with it. "You mean the death?" She looked up at me sharply, eyes wide like she hadn't been expecting me to know what she was on about. "I felt it the moment we pulled up."

"What does it mean?" she asked desperately, eyes glassy as she pulled at the sleeves of her jumper.

I considered lying, but decided if this whole 'friendship' thing was going to sail, honesty was probably a good place to start. "I don't know for sure," I responded with a shrug. "I'm no banshee, but I can tell you one thing; people have died here. A _lot_ of people."

"Can you just..._tell_?" Lydia asked, and I got the feeling _she_ _could._

"Sort of," I told her, moving over to a seat by the window. "More than anything I can smell all the blood."

Instinctively both girls sniffed. "It smells of chemicals," Allison countered with a frown.

I tapped my nose, a light smirk gracing my red lips. "Not to me." I eyed Lydia closely, wishing she wasn't wearing vervain so I could just ask her what I wanted to know. "Why're you asking me?"

She hesitated, and I got the feeling she didn't think I'd like what she had to say next. "The feeling I get from this place," she mumbled uncomfortably, breathing deeply probably to calm herself down. "It's the same feeling I get when I touch you."

That only confirmed my suspicions, but still I decided that voicing them wouldn't be prudent.

Unfortunately, the redhead sensed that I knew more than I was letting on. "Do you know something?!" she asked desperately, and for a moment I felt bad, not being able to imagine being something supernatural and not knowing exactly what it was.

"Nothing concrete," I responded honestly, and she frowned, running a hand through her hair before turning and taking a seat on the bed. She looked irritated, like she had a few choice words she'd love to pull from her intelligent mind.

Allison intervened before things could get any more tense. "So what happened with Stiles?" she asked casually, smiling over at me from her place on the other bed.

"Remember what I _just _said about my participation in gossip?" I reminded her darkly, eyes flashing blood red. Unfortunately the raven-haired beauty was a hunter, and therefore not easily frightened by my little party trick. I made a face at her, to which she only smiled pleasantly, making my expression deepen.

"Come on," she prompted restlessly. "Give us _something_."

This was my chance, I knew she was eager for details as well as getting conversation going between Lydia and I. To be completely honest, I was sick of working so hard not to like her, so with a sigh, I relented. "What do you want to know?"

"How is he?" Allison asked under her breath, like the question was taboo.

"Fine, I think?" I responded, confused by how mundane the inquiry was.

She rolled her eyes. "She means in _bed_," Lydia said, lips twitching up in something I would almost call amusement.

"Oh," I muttered in realisation, clearing my throat at the awkward miscommunication. "Uh, in a word? Indescribable."

Allison huffed, clearly seeing the deflection. "Come on, I'm not asking for a play by play." Still, I said nothing. "Okay, I'd say that after 200 years, you're probably...experienced," she tried again, still attempting to be delicate about it, which was endlessly amusing. "How does he measure up?"

I took a deep breath, allowing the air to calm me. "Let's just say, he's in my top three," I admitted, and Lydia smirked widely at my words.

There was a knock at the door, and we all looked up curiously. "I've got it," I told them, hearing a familiar heartbeat from the other side of the slab of wood. "Hello love," I greeted my boyfriend, leaning in the doorway and smiling at him serenely. The girls giggled under their breaths from behind me, but his dull human hearing didn't pick it up.

"I take it nobody's been staked or eaten yet?" he piped with a shit-eating grin.

I narrowed my green eyes, "Yet." It wasn't completely true, so far Lydia's been more than completely tolerable, but I didn't want him to know I was that easily swayed.

He cleared his throat. "Want to come get something from the vending machine with me?" he asked after a beat.

I frowned, "Is that a euphemism?"

"What-no!" he cried, rolling his eyes. He stuck his hand into his pocket, before cringing and pulling it back out only for it to be empty. "Uh do you have any spare change on you?" he asked meekly, and I patted my pocket, feeling a few crumpled bills under the denim.

"Come on," I tutted, stepping from the room into the fairly warm air of the night. "I'll be back shortly!" I called over my shoulder to the girls, who were murmuring between themselves inside the room. Allison called out an acknowledgement, and I let the door click shut behind me, moving out into the open with Stiles. "What are you-" the world suddenly dipped, like I was in a free fall, and I stumbled, which a vampire _never_ does.

"Whoa," Stiles muttered, wrapping an arm around me to steady me. Something was wrong. "You alright?"

I blinked, turning my attention back to Stiles. "I'm fine," I replied just as his stomach made a loud grumbling sound. "Come on," I used our joined bodies to pull him along. "Let's get some food in you."

"That's not all I want in me." I stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs, staring at him incredulously. He frowned as he went over what he'd said in his head, then winced as he realised how it sounded. "That came out wrong," he stammered, clearing his throat awkwardly. "It sounded smoother in my head. I meant that _I _want something in _you_, not the other way around-"

"Stiles?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up." I looked pointedly at Boyd, who was doing a pretty good job of pretending he couldn't hear the train-wreck of a conversation happening before him. Stiles pulled at his collar, clicking his tongue uncomfortably.

"Yo," he greeted the taller wolf awkwardly as I dug out my spare money, handing it to my boyfriend with an eye roll. "Hey, that was the same thing I was gonna get," he commented chattily as he watched Boyd input a sequence of numbers on the keypad. Boyd didn't respond; not even a blink of acknowledgement, only solidifying my suspicions that something was wrong. There was a crank from the machine, then it froze, the food staying lodged in the device. "Oh, hang on, I've got a patented method for this," Stiles began with a friendly smile.

He reached up to grasp the top, preparing to tilt it, reminding me of when he'd done the same thing and caused a disaster in the trauma ward of the hospital. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but Boyd cut me off by throwing his fist into the glass. Stiles' heart jumped in shock at the action while I raised my eyebrows calmly.

The tall and dark kid reached in and took out his snack, eyes sliding right past us as he turned to leave. "Huh," I hummed, watching him go with a frown. Stiles did the same for a long minute, only to quickly turn and try to inconspicuously snatch his own treats from inside the broken machine. "I'm a bad influence on you," I tutted with a fond smile. He grinned at me, reaching in one final time and snatching some kind of chocolate bar, handing it to me proudly. I tucked it into my pocket, turning to leave with him, when a scent caught my attention.

I froze, the smell filling my nostrils, hunger rearing it's ugly head in my gut.

"Jules?" Stiles asked, but it sounded like he was underwater.

Whatever was wrong, it wasn't something I wanted Stiles involved in. "I need to make a phone call," I lied through my teeth, turning away from him so he couldn't see the whites of my eyes slowly fill with blood. "Go back to your room, I think I heard Scott calling for you."

"Are you sure-"

"Now, Stiles," I snapped, still staring resolutely at the wall, refusing to look at him. He swallowed thickly but did as he was told, footsteps echoing on the creaking stairs as he ascended them. I grit my teeth, taking a step forwards once Stiles had disappeared from view.

I took a deep, calming breath, then glanced around the corner. It was empty, nobody there, and no visible blood anywhere visible to the naked eye.

"Jules?" I spun around, blinking in surprise at Lydia. "Everything okay?" she asked warily, peering around me to eye the small alcove I was staring at.

"Everything's fine," I responded robotically.

Something was wrong.

"Come on," she said, waving me over to follow her. "I've gotta tell you and Allison something."

Taking one last look at the alcove, I turned to meet her at the stairs, following her up them and down the hall into our shared room.

"Allison?!" she called to her best friend once we were inside.

"Do you have the towels?!" the brunette responded from the bathroom. Without another word the redhead moved to where the shower was still running. "Thanks," she muttered to Lydia as she took one, switching off the water and hopping out to dry herself.

I sniffed lightly, eyebrows raising as I took an a familiar scent. "Was Scott here?" I asked over my shoulder.

Her heart stuttered, but I didn't react, merely filing the information away for later. "Yeah," she answered me after a beat. I wanted to make a comment about how she'd been in the shower at the time, but I changed my mind, deciding it wasn't my place.

"So, when I was at the reception, they had a counter on the wall," Lydia began, taking a seat on the bed as Allison half closed the door to the bathroom, getting changed back into her clothes. "Guess what it was for."

"Just tell us," I drawled, and she briefly rolled her eyes.

"Suicides in the motel."

Allison and I were silent for a beat. "How many?" she asked seriously as she nudged open the door again, towel-drying her dark hair.

"198."

"198?"

"Yep," Lydia murmured. "And we're talking forty years. On average that's 4.95 a year which is...actually expected – but who commemorates that with a _framed number_?"

"All suicides?" I asked curiously, arms crossed as I leaned back against the peeling paint of the wall.

"Yes," she replied with a dull grimace. "Hanging, throat-cutting, pill-popping, both-barrels-of-a-shotgun-in-the-mouth suicides."

The smell was back.

It ate at me, so strong it burned my nose. I could practically taste it. I knew I needed to figure it out, where had I smelt it before? "I'll be back," I told the girls, but Lydia wasn't listening. I didn't wait for them to pay attention, deciding it was better just to slip from the room quietly.

I made my way along the terrace, hand running along the chipped paint coated thickly onto the metal barrier. I paused outside Stiles and Scott's room, facing the open road and taking a deep breath in.

Something was wrong.

I frowned, not even bothering to scan the area for humans before grasping the rail and pushing myself over it. I landed on my feet with ease, my shoes thumping against the dirt. I straightened, eyes sweeping the area, purely for the source of that smell.

"Hm, I love the smell of fresh blood in the evening," I snapped around, staring at Kol, who stood leaning against the wall. He had a girl held to his chest, several years younger than our physical age. One arm was wrapped around her waist, the other holding her chin in place. A large, bloody bite mark sat on her shoulder, droplets of blood gliding down over her tan skin. "Want a bite?"

"I think I'll pass," I responded with a sneer, turning away. I forgot how fast he moved, because I'd barely turned fully around before he was leaning against the opposite wall, staring at me calmly, like he hadn't just run around me with a struggling victim in his arms.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a vampire, darling," he cooed, ducking down to lick at the gaping wound. Blood smeared on his lips, and he moaned in bliss.

My gums tingles and my fists clenched as I fought the urge to feed.

"Well, if you're not going to partake-" without further fanfare he jerked his hand, easily snapping the girl's neck.

My eyes widened in alarm and I gasped, disappearing from my spot and re-materialising beside the girl's body. I leaned over her, watching her chest, hoping it would move even though I could hear her heart, still and unbeating in her chest. I glared up at Kol with fury; Stiles would never forgive me. "You _promised_ you wouldn't-"

"You're a _vampire_, Juliet," he growled threateningly, eyes flooding with blood. "Start acting like it."

I snarled, all but diving at the older vampire...only to run into air.

Startled, I swung around, sweeping the area to find that both Kol and the girl's corpse had vanished. I swallowed thickly, running my hands through my already messy hair. Was I going insane? Had I _finally_ snapped?

"Jules!"

I swung around, fist clenched tight and ready to attack, only for me to freeze inches from Stiles' face.

"Jules, something's happening to the wolves, we think it's..." my boyfriend trailed off, noticing the terrified expression on my face. "Oh shit, it's happening to you too."

"What?" I asked, my face instantly clearing of worry. His own scrunched in suspicion. "No, Stiles, everything's fine," I assured him, only half lying. Whatever was wrong, I could handle it. "Something's wrong with the wolves?" I asked, changing the topic, trying to distract him. "Is Scott okay?"

"Yeah, Allison's gone to find him now," he nodded, eyes still narrowed but thankfully dropping it for the moment. "I'm going to go get Boyd, can you find Isaac, make sure he's okay? Keep him from killing himself?"

"Keep him from _what_?" I exclaimed in alarm. He winced, probably realising he could have been more delicate with that one.

"Look, we think it's the Darach," he revealed softly, taking a step closer. "Somehow they're making the wolves have visions, making them want to hurt themselves – kill themselves."

I quickly nodded, concern settling heavily in my gut. "I'll find Isaac."

He looked reluctant to let me go, but after a long pause nodded, turning around and rushing back across the lot. "I have to speak to Lydia," he called over his shoulder. "Meet you back here soon."

He ran off, disappearing around the corner. There was a whimper from the left, and since I didn't knew which room Isaac was in, I figured that was a start. With a frown I wandered around the side of the motel, glancing up for a brief moment at the stars before eyeing the person curled into a ball along the wall.

"Hello?" I called, approaching the person, watching as they shook in the moonlight. "Are you okay?"

"Don't come any closer!"

It was a young woman. A familiar one, if the scent was anything to go by. Where had I met her before? "It's okay, I'm here to help you!"

"No!" she shrieked suddenly. "You're one of _them_!"

She looked up, glowering at me with contempt and fear. My eyes widened as I met her ocean blue eyes. I remembered her. More specifically, I remember the way her blood tasted as it pooled in my mouth only a few short weeks ago in that alley. "You," I mumbled, gritting my teeth against the hunger.

"Is this really what you've become?"

I swung around, staring out into the vast empty desert that surrounded me, the only sign of life the lights from the motel behind me. "Who's there?" I demanded frantically, fingers curled like claws, preparing to attack at a moment's notice.

"It's so sad that you've already forgotten."

With a gasp I spun back to face the back wall of the motel where the innocent girl was curled up. She was still there, only now a familiar face stood in front of her, hands clasped serenely over her white nightgown.

"Myra," I all but choked, stomach swooping unpleasantly.

"I'm so disappointed in you, Aunt Juliet."

There was nothing I could say. What could I possibly tell her? "I'm sorry," I breathed, eyes stinging with unshed tears. "I'm _so sorry_."

"Is that it?" she asked, heavily lined face pulling into a scowl. "You're _sorry_?"

"I'm trying," I gasped, swallowing thickly as I struggled to keep myself together. "I'm trying so hard."

"And yet there is still so much blood on your hands."

I stared into her light blue eyes, the same eyes that my sister (her great, great, great, great, great, great grandmother) had. "I've made mistakes. I'm working on it, I'm getting _better! _Stiles-"

"You think falling in love with a human washes away all that blood from your hands?" she asked, words cutting deeper than knives ever could. "You think it makes you a better person? It makes me sick."

"I'm sorry sweetheart-" I tried to say, but the old lady – the last of my bloodline – merely scowled at me in distaste.

"You're going to slip up again," she told me darkly, and I could feel my own hands shaking. "And next time, it won't be a stranger. It'll be the people you care about most."

"No!" I argued as strongly as I could – which wasn't very. "You're wrong. I can fight it."

"No. You. Can't." I sobbed aloud, the sound pathetic and broken. I pressed a hand to my empty chest, wishing for the billionth time that my heart would just _beat_. "You're only going to bring pain and destruction to that boy's life. If you really loved him, you'd end it now."

"How will breaking up with him help?" I asked through my tears.

"Don't end the relationship," she spat venomously. "End your _life_."

"I've survived this long," I argued with an embarrassing sniffle. "I'm not bowing out from something as pathetic as _suicide_."

"Even if that's what's best for Stiles?"

She had me there. I was a cancer, and I was actually considering giving Stiles my disease. I was daydreaming about feeding him my blood and _snapping his neck_. How fucked up can a person get? I took a rough, shuddering breath.

"You're going to slip up again," my descendant told me quietly, something like pity in her eyes, that was almost worse than the disgust. The girl from the other week whimpered in fear, and I glanced at her, watching in sickening fascination as blood began to stain her white top as it poured freely from the bite mark on her neck. "How many times do you think he'll forgive you? How much blood is too much?"

"I'm _trying_-"

"But it's _not enough_!" she roared, her voice strong for someone of such an age. I remembered her when she was little, back before she knew who – and what – I was. Little black haired Myra, running in the park with her dog, long pigtails flying behind her in the wind. "I asked you to stop. My _dying wish_ was that you stop the bloodshed. And now look at you."

Confused, I glanced down at my hands, freezing when I saw they were coated with thick, syrupy blood, the substance buried under my nails and dripping from my fingertips. I had the terrifying urge to lick them, to ingest the delicious substance that was worse than any drug manufactured by man. I wanted it. I _needed_ it.

With a sickened cry I left the hotel, running around the side and up the stairs, too fast for the group in the parking lot to see me. Stiles room was the first place I went, somewhere I could be enveloped in his scent. It comforted me, even as I rushed to the bathroom, turning on the tap and thrusting my bloody hands under the water, scrubbing them frantically in an effort to get rid of the blood.

The water ran red with it, swishing down the sink with a sucking noise, but despite that, the blood stayed. No matter how much I rubbed, no matter how desperately I scrubbed, the blood was stained on my hands. The blood of hundreds upon _thousands_ of people, staining my skin.

It hadn't bothered me previously. Some nights when I was drunk I would look down at my bloody hands and laugh. Some nights I'd try to lick it off. Never had it ever sent me into something so pathetically human as a _panic attack._

Finally, realising it was a lost cause, I turned off the water, sinking to the floor of the motel's bathroom and tipping my head back so my skull cracked against the tiled wall. The pain felt good, it felt _right._

I slammed it back again, wincing as my skull split open only to slowly begin to heal itself. I couldn't even hurt myself without doing it wrong. With an angry cry I reared my arm up and slammed it down into the tiles of the floor. They smashed under my hand, and my ring pressed hard enough into my skin to leave a temporary imprint.

My ring.

That was it. That was the answer.

With a relieved sigh, I slid it off my finger holding it up to the light, watching as the lapis lazuli sparkled prettily. Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet, moving over to the bed on the left of the room. Stiles' bag was still propped beside it, and I crouched beside it, unzipping it and leaning down to get one last whiff of his scent before I dropped the ring into it's depths.

I moved to the door, closing it softly behind me before grasping onto the hanging roof, easily pulling myself up and over the top. I settled myself down on the metal of the roof, leaning back so I was laying back on the diagonal material, legs dangling precariously off the side as I stared up at the starry night sky, filled with nothing but peace.

"Jules?!" Stiles familiar voice called out from below me, and I frowned. I hadn't planned for him to see it. He shouldn't have to watch me burn. "Jules?!"

"Stiles," Allison whispered, her footsteps coming to a stop beside him. "Look."

There was a pause, then, "Jules!? We've been looking for you everywhere!" I didn't respond, merely breathing in the crisp air of the early morning, watching as the final few stars disappeared from view. "What're you doing up there?"

The sun was coming up.

"Jules?!" he sounded worried now, and that was just another thing to add to the growing list of negative things I did to Stiles. "Come down."

Deciding that saying nothing would only make things worse, I sat up, staying perched on the edge but leaning over so I could look down at the humans, Lydia and Scott came to a stop next to them, peering up at me.

I smiled sadly down at all my friends. "I'm watching the sunrise," I told them serenely, glancing back up at the horizon, seeing the sky turn a beautiful lilac as the sun began it's ascent.

"Jules!" his voice was like ice now, heart hammering away as he no doubt figured out that something was seriously wrong. "Please, come down," he begged, voice cracking as he pleaded.

"What's going on?" Lydia whispered to him, either forgetting or uncaring that I could hear every word.

"I don't know, but something's wrong," he murmured back, heart racing even faster. "Jules!" he called again. "I just went through this with Scott and I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to go through it with you as well," he snapped firmly, but I could hear pain hidden in his tone.

I smiled sadly again, blinking away tears as I looked up at the sky which was slowly turning a peach colour. "But she'll survive a fall," Scott told him in a hushed voice, clearly confused. I smiled at the sky; Scott, always the optimist.

"I don't think falling is her plan," Allison whispered back, and I glanced down to meet her eyes, lips twitching up as I tilted my head, observing my friend.

"Oh _God_," Stiles exclaimed, making a retching sound as he glanced over his shoulder at the impending sunrise. "Juliet!" he cried out, more serious and desperate than I had ever heard him. "Tell me you're wearing your daylight ring!"

I smiled again, a single tear dripping down my cheek. I wasn't afraid of dying; hell, I was already dead. I was afraid of leaving Stiles. But Myra was right, I had to do what was best by him, even if that meant getting myself out of the picture. "You're always the one who figures it out, Stiles," I called back, only just loud enough for the humans to hear. "I love that about you."

"Juliet, _please_," he pleaded, voice cracking once more. I hated that I was causing him pain. But it would all be over soon. "Where is it? Juliet _where is it_?"

"Do you think you'll be okay?" I asked airily, staring absently at the horizon. "I mean, I'm not that much of a help to the team anyway. Kol's right, I am a pathetic excuse for a vampire."

"Jules, please," he begged from below. "If you love me you'll tell me where the ring is."

"You'll find it soon enough," I called down to him gently. "I know you'll take good care of it."

He turned to Allison, "Go to my room and find my bag. It has to be in there somewhere." I marvelled again at how incredibly well my human boyfriend knew me. It was a gift, to have someone know me so wholly and still like what they saw. Allison raced up the stairs, disappearing from my view though I could hear her rummaging through the room, desperately searching for my trinket.

"Jules, I know you think you're not an asset to us; I know you think you're doing what's best for me. But you're the only thing that keeps me together. Without you, I wouldn't be able to survive this life. And I _love_ you, more than _anything_. So please, you're only hurting me more by doing this. Please stop. _Please_ come down."

My heart snapped in two, but it wasn't enough to change my mind. Myra was still right. I'd be the death of him in one way or another.

"Juliet Adams what did I tell you about not pulling a _Goddamn_ Twilight?!" he shouted furiously, loud enough that it probably woke someone up.

I remembered that day in the kitchen, talking about the boundaries for our relationship. I swore I wouldn't pull this kind of thing. What did it say about me if I went back on that? If I gave in to the pressure?

Fucking hell, I was _stronger_ than this.

"Juliet, get down here _right now_!"

The sun broke over the horizon, the sunlight hitting me straight on. For a split second I only felt warm, like a human merely basking in the sunlight on a beach somewhere exotic.

Then I felt the burn.

I screamed as my skin sizzled, smoke rising from my burning flesh as I started to incinerate. I writhed in agony, my hold on the roof slipping as I fell to the ground. I hit the gravel hard, my bones cracking as I landed awkwardly. I continued to shriek, holding my arms over my face to try and stop the pain.

I heard people calling my name, but all I could do was scream and scream, until finally the pain burned hot and bright.

The last thing I thought was that I hoped Stiles forgave me. Everything went dark.


	40. Let Me Out

_You dig your claws in deep_

_I'm way out, breaking free_

_You can't keep this alive_

_For me to survive, push me to the side_

_And I can't run if you're coming on to me_

_And I can't hide when you've got what's left of me_

_You leave it unsaid_

_It's all in my head,_

_We're better off dead_

Let Me Out – The Veronicas

* * *

I awoke with a gasp, like I'd been held underwater.

My eyes snapped open as I desperately sucked in air. My skin ached and stung, feeling like it was burning off my body. I clutched at the ground, fingernails dragging painfully along the rough cement. The air burned as I forced it into my lungs, and I coughed loudly.

My vision was fuzzy, but after a long time my eyes adjusted, the shapes focusing into bodies visible in the light early morning light. "Stiles?" I asked with a frown, wondering what the hell had happened. My boyfriend was ashen, eyes wide and bloodshot. I realised there was a familiar taste in my mouth, an addictive metallic tang that haunted my dreams.

I lifted a hand to wipe my mouth, glancing down at the skin smeared with blood – also unexpectedly free of third degree burns. I knew whose it was, I would have even if I hadn't seen Stiles' wrist torn to shreds. "Are you okay?" he had the audacity to ask me, desperate concern splattered across his face.

I frowned, pushing myself into a proper sitting position, reaching down to my own wrist and biting into it deeply before holding it to my boyfriend's lips. He glanced at Scott, Lydia and Allison, hesitating for only a brief second before letting the liquid pool in his mouth, swallowing it and glancing down at his wound, watching idly as the skin quickly knitted itself back together.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, turning his attention back to me properly, barely sparing himself another thought. "How do you feel?"

The sunrise was warm on my face, and realising this I suddenly recognised a familiar weight on the middle finger of my left hand, I glanced down at my ring, now securely in place. "I was seconds away from being a pile of ash, how do you _think_ I feel?" I asked with a deep scowl, voice brimming with attitude.

The relief was impossible to miss as it danced across the human's face. "Good, that's good," he mumbled, though for what reason I wasn't sure. He was probably happy I was coherent enough to be using sarcasm. The happy expression didn't last long, melting into one of fury. He reached out, shoving me strongly in the chest and forcing me back onto the gravel, clearly more than a little irritated. "What the _hell_ was _that_?!"

I suppressed a wince, shrugging my shoulders like it would help. "Black magic?" I attempted to joke snidely, but he wasn't in the mood. With a grunt he pushed himself to his feet and began to pace, babbling angrily under his breath.

Surprisingly, Lydia was the first one to step forwards, holding out a hand for me to take. I was suspicious of her motives, but didn't want to come across as petty, so I took the offer, letting her pull me to my feet before letting go and cracking my knuckles more out of habit than anything else.

"You're okay?" Scott asked, stepping forwards to wrap me in a surprising hug. "It happened to me too," he mumbled to me as I awkwardly lifted my arms to hug back, wrapping around the naturally warm wolf and squeezing, slowly feeling more comfortable in his arms. I frowned into his shoulder, pulling back to stare at him in genuine concern.

"How are you now?" I asked warily. "No lingering suicidal tenancies?"

"None," he lifted one shoulder in a shrug and gave me the puppy dog eyes. "You?"

"No more than usual," I jested, but the joke fell flat, everyone shifting uncomfortably.

"Come on," Allison said, smoothing over the moment. "Everyone will be waking up soon."

"I'm not stepping a foot back in there," Lydia said shrilly, eyeing the motel with contempt.

"I'll go in and get our stuff," she said calmly. "You guys can go back to the bus."

"The bus?" Stiles asked.

Allison shrugged. "Unless you want to camp out on the road," she responded with raised eyebrows.

He clicked his tongue. "Right," he muttered, turning away and heading straight for the big yellow vehicle, not even stopping to look back at me, making me frown worriedly. I stared after my human boyfriend, concern curdling in my gut.

"I think we really scared him," Scott murmured to me gently, instantly I felt a weight in my chest, something I was reluctant to acknowledge as guilt.

"How do I fix it?"

He sighed. "Show him we're not going to do anything like that ever again, I suppose," he responded, and I pressed my lips together thoughtfully.

I sighed, bumping Scott affectionately with my hip, making his lips tip up as I followed the path Stiles had taken, making my way over to the bus. The doors were open, and I ascended the short few steps easily, peering into the vehicle's depths and frowning worriedly as I saw Stiles, curled up on one of the seats towards the back.

"Are you okay?" I asked him gently as I approached, coming to a stop in the middle of the isle.

"I mean, it's not like my best friend _and_ girlfriend tried to burn themselves alive or anything," he replied snidely, turning his neck to stare out the window, eyeing the looming motel with disdain.

I sighed, hands twitching as I ached to reach out to him, but not knowing if it would be accepted. "I'm really sorry, Stiles," I told him sincerely, the sunlight pouring into the bus. I glanced down at the ring on my finger to reassure myself that I wouldn't burn like I just had. "I couldn't stop myself. I was so convinced...I mean, maybe it was a spell. God knows witches hate vampires enough to pull some shit like that. Or maybe it was a djinn, those fuckers have had it in for us since the 50s-"

"You're not allowed to do that again, you hear me?" he interrupted my desperate rambling. I immediately nodded. "Okay," he nodded back assuredly. "Then get down here."

I was confused for a moment, wondering what he meant, until suddenly he held out an arm, staring up at me expectantly. I melted into his embrace, curling myself into the human's side, nuzzling my nose into his neck.

"I really am sorry," I murmured into his skin, one hand curling around his collar firmly, reassuring myself that he was there.

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, free hand moving up to wind his fingers through my raven locks. He breathed in deeply, and I ignored it as though I didn't realise he was sniffing my hair. My lips tipped upwards and I sank into him further.

The others appeared at the door a few minutes later, all marching up the stairs and down the isle, each slipping into their own seats to rest their heads for the few short hours we had until the others in the class would be heading back onto the bus.

I didn't sleep, but the rest of them did. Scott was the first to drift off, head tipping back against the window, mouth held open to let soft snores escape.

Lydia was next, resting her head on Allison's shoulder, breathing evening out gently. Finally the onyx haired hunter herself drifted also, sighing softly in her sleep as she dozed against the window.

Stiles seemed to be forcing himself to stay awake with me, and I caught his eyes. "Go to sleep," I whispered to him in the soft silence of the early morning.

"Only if you do," he murmured back sleepily.

"I don't need sleep," I told him reassuringly. "I need to make sure you're all safe." He didn't look convinced. "Please," I tried again. "Get some rest."

Finally he nodded, head tipping back against the back of the seat as he too nodded off.

It only took a few short hours for the group of weary teens and their wild eyed coach to approach the bus. "I really don't wanna know," Coach said apathetically, eyeing us with distaste as the dozing group sprung awake. "But incase you missed the announcement: track meet's cancelled, so we're heading home. Pack it in!"

The (mostly) human students slowly shuffled onto the vehicle, taking up the free spots towards the front. I had curled around Stiles during the night, and I didn't move my legs from his lap as he woke, turning to look at me in slight surprise. I smiled up at him impishly, and he grinned back down at me, but the expression was tired and wary.

"I don't know what happened last night," a voice said, and my attention snapped to the newcomer sitting in the seat beside Scott. I growled under my breath as I realised who it was, the alpha twin not so much as flinching at the sound. "But I'm pretty sure you saved my life."

"Actually _I_ saved your life," Stiles interjected, leaning forwards even as I glared threateningly at the broad-shouldered kid. "But...not that it matters that much. It's just minor details..." he trailed off awkwardly when he only received cold stares in response.

"...so I'm going to give you something," the alpha continued as though my boyfriend hadn't even spoken. "We're pretty sure Derek's still alive," he said, and I sat straighter, chest clenching in something that seemed dangerously like hope. "But he killed one of ours. That means one of two things can happen; either he joins our pack-"

"Or he kills his own," Scott finished, heart beating wildly.

"Or Kali goes after him, and we kill him. That's the way it works."

"You know, your little code of ethics there is kind of barbaric," Stiles piped up, sneering in his direction. The wolf didn't reply, merely sliding to his feet and moving to the back of the bus.

"Coach, can I see that whistle for a second?!" Lydia spoke up suddenly, making me turn to watch her curiously as she took the whistle from the teacher's neck. She took a seat again, and Stiles and I leaned over the seats to get a better look at what she was doing. She cupped her hands around the whistle and blew, pulling away a moment later and showing us her palm coated with a thick, purple powder. "Wolfsbane," she said needlessly.

"And..." I said, leaning further over to press my pointer finger to her hand. I hissed in pain as I touched it, pulling back in pain and looking at my singed skin. "Vervain," I revealed with a scowl.

"So every time Coach blew the whistle on the bus, Scott, Isaac, Boyd and Juliet-"

"Ethan," Lydia added with a frown.

"We all inhaled it," Scott finished with narrowed eyes.

"You were all poisoned by it," Allison said gravely.

"That's how the Darach got in their heads," Stiles nodded. "That's how he did it." In a move quick for the common human, he lurched forwards, snatching the whistle from Lydia's hands and scrambling to reach the window, desperately working the glass open to toss it out onto the concrete.

"_Hey_! _Stilinski_!" Coach snapped furiously just as the bus started, pulling out onto the main road. I could only grin.

The expression wavered after a long moment, staying turned down long after Stiles had sat down, this time beside his best friend, bumping him lightly on the shoulder and tossing a smile over his shoulder at me.

I curled in on myself, trying to forget exactly how close I'd been to death.

* * *

"You know, that's really not good for your back."

Stiles sprung upwards violently, gasping in surprise as he tumbled off the bed he was hanging off of, reading with his head tilted backwards. "Jules!" he blinked at me, dropping the paper in his hands and pushing himself to his feet. "You're here."

"Yes," I responded calmly, tilting my head at him and folding one leg over the other, leaning back against his windowsill.

"Well-uh, how are you?" he asked softly, though his heart betrayed him, hammering nervously in his chest.

It'd been two days since we'd spoken. I felt bad for isolating myself, especially after the whole _motel_ incident, but I felt it was necessary. I needed time to recuperate, drinking my weight in blood and listening to my favourite records. I didn't want Stiles to see how terrified I was, how shaken and unnerved I felt.

It came through in my actions. The house was permanently dark, I remained in comfortable clothing and I smoked a human's lifetime supply of cigarettes.

In short: I was depressed.

For an ordinary human, this wouldn't be a dangerous thing. For a vampire? It was deadly. Not for me, but for those around me.

The urge to flick my switch was more pressing than ever. I ached all over, desperate for relief from the fear, from the pain. I drank as much blood as I could handle, hoping it would tide me over, but it was nothing like the stuff from the source. And that was the biggest problem. I wanted the stuff from the source.

I was _hungry_. I craved blood in a way I hadn't in years. I didn't trust myself to be around my human boyfriend, too worried I'd nip him a little too hard when kissing his neck.

So I stayed away, even though it was difficult. I loved the kid, and I wanted to spend every waking (and un-waking) moment with him. I told myself he needed space too, but looking at him now, seeing the wary and hopeful look in his expressive coffee eyes, I knew it probably wasn't my best decision concerning the human boy.

Deciding that I sure as hell wasn't about to let things get awkward, I rolled my eyes, sweeping to my feet and crossing the room in only three steps. I wound my arms around his neck, pressing myself to him, admiring the way his eyes lit up in the golden light from the sunset pouring through the window.

"I'm better now that I'm with you," I told him with a cheesy grin, subtly inhaling his intoxicating scent, enjoying the way it both relaxed me and made me feel alive – better than any drug.

"What-" I didn't let him finish, swooping in and planting my lips over his. He yelped in surprise at my actions, but only too a split second to react, slipping his arms around my waist and responding enthusiastically, leaning into me happily. After a long, blissful minute, he pulled away. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?" he asked suspiciously, eyeing me closely.

I smiled up at him again. "I think I'm getting there," I told him honestly, hint of a mischievous smirk appearing on my lips. "I could use your help," I added suggestively, and he frowned confusedly, not getting the hint.

I rolled my eyes, fondly exasperated as I leant into him, once more bringing our lips together. The air escaped his nose in a heavy puff, but he didn't for a second argue, tilting his head instinctually to deepen the kiss. He didn't take it any further, and I rolled my eyes behind my closed lids as I reached up, deft fingers popping open the buttons of his shirt.

Once the item of clothing was unbuttoned, I gently but eagerly pushed it off his shoulders. He twisted his body, tugging the shirt off his body. I ran my hands over his collarbones, nails dragging softly across his pale skin.

"Home alone?" I breathed against his lips as though I wasn't already sure, and he hummed in affirmation. "Good," I added, licking at his plump bottom lip.

His hands clutched at my waist, fingers digging into the soft but firm flesh there, thumbs brushing against my hipbones exactly the way I liked it.

Reluctantly pulling away, though only for a moment, I carelessly grasped the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. Stiles sighed happily as my bra was revealed, and with confidence I was only beginning to get used to from him, he drew back into me like a magnet, lips finding the place my pulse _should_ have been, nibbling the sensitive skin before lapping his tongue over the spot to soothe it.

I reached back, easily flicking open the clasp of my lingerie. The lace fell from my body, but Stiles didn't stop to look, merely continuing to lavish attention on my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair, making it look even more wild than usual.

Impatient and embarrassingly eager, I grabbed the back of his undershirt, balling the material in one fist and yanking it, ripping the cloth from his body with ease.

Stiles made a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a laugh, and I smirked, happily moving my hands to his chest, nails raking gently over his skin.

I pushed him back, forcing him to collapse onto his bed. I swung one leg over his hips, settling myself on top of him and leaning down to kiss him some more. I would never tire of it; of him.

I was more careful with his jeans, keeping his mouth occupied as I unzipped them, sitting back and pulling them off of him in one smooth movement. I took him in my hand and he mewled, arching into my hold desperately. I smirked against his lips before kissing my way down his chin and along the column of his throat, nibbling at his adams apple before moving to his pulse point, sucking the skin there firmly, pleased when I pulled away to reveal a bright red mark.

I continued down his chest, paying a few minutes worth of attention to each of his nipples before licking my way down to the small patch of hair leading away from his navel. I hadn't gone down on him yet, and I knew that nobody ever had. I smirked again; he was in for a treat.

He was well endowed, thick and hot on my tongue as I started off slowly, sucking lightly and flickering at his tip. Another pro to being a vampire: breathing wasn't a necessity. This was good news for their sexual partners of all genders and species, which I knew from experience. I relaxed my throat, taking more of my boyfriend and moaning around his length.

He cried out, fists clutching at the blankets as he experienced the sensations for the first time. It didn't take him long to come undone, but I wasn't surprised, though I was sure he would feel embarrassed looking back. I swallowed with ease, the taste of him salty and severe.

I crawled back up my boyfriend's body, grinning as he all but purred, laying boneless and sated against his pillows. "Oh my God," he gasped breathlessly, staring up at the ceiling, probably reliving it in his head.

"I love you," I told him sincerely, a fond smile on my lips, and his big, round eyes snapped to me, staring at me in pure incredulity.

"_You _love _me_?" he asked, and if I didn't know better I'd have thought he sounded enraged. It wasn't like it was the first time I'd said it, but he was acting like it might as well have been. "_You're _telling _me_ that you _love me_?"

My lips twitched, and as I leant closer to brush our noses together, and he went cross eyed in an attempt to maintain eye contact. "I do believe that's what I just said," I told him patiently.

"It's not possible," he said breathily, glancing away to stare up at the ceiling, expression pinched. "You can't be real."

"You get sappy after blow jobs, huh?" I asked him gently, shifting so I was hovering more directly over him, forcing him to meet my eyes again. "That's good to know."

He sighed, tension draining from his coiled muscles. "_I_ love _you_," he told me sincerely, heart beating fast but consistently, his words nothing but the truth. I grinned, also relaxing in his hold and ducking down to mould our lips together. "_Oh_," he exclaimed suddenly, pulling back from the chaste kiss, familiar blotchy red spots appearing on his freckled face. "I should probably...um...you know..."

"Return the favour?" I finished for him, an impish smirk lighting up my face. "How about," I began, running my fingertips down his side. "You can just leave an it as an IOU," I suggested, grin turning sly.

Suddenly there was a shrill ringing sound ruining the peaceful, quiet air, and I sighed defeatedly, dropping my head to his clavicle and groaning. "Leave it," I murmured to him softly, nuzzling deeper into his neck, and he paused where his arm was half outstretched to reach for the device.

"But-" he began to argue weakly, cutting himself off when I pressed my lips to his pulse point, lightly nipping the skin there. He groaned, leaning further into me and forgetting about the shrieking cell as it rang out.

Things were just getting good again when the annoying sound started up once more, echoing around the room like a siren.

"It could be important," Stiles sighed reluctantly, pulling away from me and reaching for the vibrating device. He glanced at the screen then pressed the green button, holding it to his ear, unable to keep the annoyance from his tone as he spoke. "Scott, now's not really the best time-"

"_Something happened at the hospital_," he cut his best friend off. Stiles sat up straighter, the sheet falling to his waist, though he didn't notice, all his focus on the conversation at hand. "_There are two doctors missing. I think it's the Darach._"

"We're on our way," Stiles said quickly, flying from the bed and holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he struggled to pull up a pair of pants. "We'll be there in five."

I slid out from under the covers too, pulling on my jeans before blindly slapping on the bra I'd been wearing, along with my old _'Stones_ shirt, before slipping over to Stiles' closet and pulling out a worn, thready red flannel. I chucked it over my shirt and turned back to Stiles, who had thrown the phone onto the bed and was struggling with buttoning his jeans.

I met him in the centre of the room, rolling my eyes fondly as I shoved his hands out of the way, buttoning the pants myself in a simple flick. "Breathe," I reminded my boyfriend, who had suddenly turned into a massive ball of anxiety.

He did as he was told, sucking in a deep breath as he reached for his shirt, slipping it on and chucking his hoodie on over the top.

He collected his keys and phone, shoving them into his pocket and making a beeline for the door. "Should I call Kol?" I asked conversationally as I walked behind him, watching him all but trip down the stairs in his haste.

Stiles snorted bitterly, "as if he'd even show up."

He had a point, the last few times I'd needed him, he hadn't had the decency to turn up, let alone send a text telling me why. I'd seen him a few times over the last few days, mostly in passing. I'd tried to talk to him, but it was all "I have a meeting to get to a town over" and "fuck you, I don't have to explain myself to anyone".

Dick.

Stiles slammed his car door while I let the passenger side one slip quietly closed. He was frowning, staring resolutely at the road as he pulled out of his driveway.

"You're way too tense for a guy who just got blown," I told him casually, and the car jolted for a moment as he spluttered in response to my comment.

"I think sacrificial murders are reason enough to be tense," he argued tightly, turning onto the main road and stepping on it, going slightly over the speed limit (though I didn't mention it).

I observed him, listening to the sound of his heart beating quickly. I could practically hear the words shooting around in that big brain of his. "You don't have to hold the whole world on your shoulders, you know," I said softly just as we pulled up to a red light, the warm colour washing over Stiles invitingly.

He sighed but didn't answer, cracking his knuckles as he was bathed in green, and pressing his foot to the gas, heading towards the hospital.

"Scott!" Stiles was calling before he was even completely out of the car, tripping in his urgency to reach his friend. "So?" he blurted, barely sparing the time to lock the car behind him. "Tell me everything."

As Scott spoke, I surveyed the area. The cops still hadn't arrived, and I figured that because it wasn't a complete emergency it didn't have high priority. I halfheartedly listened to Scott's explanation. Two doctors missing, just up and gone from their daily lives.

Stiles was instantly on board with his best friend's Darach sacrifice theory, and I had to admit that it was a good theory (and not only because it was the only one we had).

Of course Kol was a possibility, but I didn't want to bring that up, since nobody else had. Besides, it was unlike him to go after two esteemed doctors on the same night.

Finally the cops showed up, and Stiles all but jumped on his father the second he stepped out of the car. The sheriff had more important stories to collect, and since he didn't have all the facts, we couldn't get him up to speed on the truth, and had no choice other than to let him do his job.

"These are definitely sacrifices, right?" Scott asked, looking for confirmation of some kind as we moved away from the sheriff, standing off to the side where we wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah it's one Deaton mentioned: healers," Stiles responded softly, glancing over Scott's shoulder at his dad.

"What about Danny? He threw up mistletoe. That's not a coincidence. And if he hadn't been with Ethan, he would have died. He's not a healer."

Stiles was silent for a beat. "Can you hear that?" he asked us suddenly, gesturing to where his dad was taking a phone call.

I tilted my head, easily catching the words on the other end of the connection.

"They found a body," Scott told him with wide eyes.

"We have to go check it out," Stiles said immediately, and I wrapped my fingers around his arm to stop him.

"We can't all show up at the crime scene," I told him sternly. "I'll go."

"What? Why do _you_ get to go?" Stiles whined.

"Because I'm older and I said so," I sniped back, and he crossed his arms as he pouted.

He looked like he was going to say something, but I recognised the expression on his face as he clearly changed his mind before speaking. "I don't think you should be out alone," he finally settled for saying.

I raised an eyebrow at him dubiously, and he winced, realised how it sounded. "I can take care of myself," I said dryly, and he sighed to himself, making me feel inexplicably guilty. "I'll call Kol," I assured him to make up for being so curt.

Scott huffed, "if he'll even show up."

I leaned forwards, brushing my lips over his gently. "I'll be okay," I told him quietly, as Scott looked away politely. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

I left without another word, merely softly nudging Scott on the shoulder as I passed, making my way out of the parking lot, heading for the north side of town.

I hadn't seen Kol in days, not since before the whole face-off with the alpha pack. I was furious, although entirely unsurprised. It was so like him to disappear without a moment's notice, especially when we needed him most. I was again completely unsurprised when he wouldn't answer his phone, meaning I had to wander through the town alone.

Thankfully it wasn't a full moon, so the risk was minimal.

After checking out the crime scene for myself and determining there was nothing I could do further, I texted Stiles to tell him I was okay, then slipped back to my house.

I _was_ however actually surprised for once, when the lights were on and some kind of heavy rock music was blaring from speakers that I didn't own. I shoved my way through the door, instantly frowning as I got a face full of the stench of vodka and fresh blood.

"Kol," I hissed, stepping around the corner and eyeing the Original where he sat on the couch, a hoard of girls around him and a small group of boys bringing them mixed drinks.

"Ah – Juliet!" Kol grinned when I appeared, the front door clicking shut behind me. "Long time, no see."

I was livid as I lunged forwards, grasping him by the collar of his expensive but bloodstained shirt and heaving him up off the lounge. I knew he was letting me, I couldn't have made him do a single thing he didn't want to do.

"Where the _fuck_ were you?" I demanded, ignoring the half naked women cooing and begging for me to return him to their side.

He sneered uncaringly. "Away on business," he answered me nonchalantly.

"You've been daggered for several decades, how much _business_ could you possibly have?" I asked snidely, and he merely smirked callously. "One of my friends nearly _died_ because you weren't there to help us."

He sighed, clicking his tongue and staring down at me through intelligent, narrowed eyes. "Several things," he began, easily shoving me off of him and holding up his free hands to count off on his fingers. "Since when do _you_ have friends, and since when am _I_ required to be at your every beck-and-call?"

"Since I gave you a place to hide out from your psychopathic brother?" I asked scornfully, baring my teeth at him angrily.

He waved a hand, again entirely uncaring. "Semantics," he muttered offhandedly. "Look, are you going to join in on the fun or not?" he asked impatiently, moving back to the couch and sinking down into the cushions, the girls surrounding him letting out sighs of pleasure.

"Not," I sneered, shoving a buff, shirtless male in the chest as he attempted to approach me.

"Suit yourself," Kol hummed indifferently, his full attention on the throat of the youngest of his compelled party guests.

Knowing I wouldn't get any more out of him, I spun around and marched up the stairs, slipping into my room and turning an old jazz record up as loud as it could go, trying to drown out the moans and gasps from downstairs, to drown out the thrashing music.

Trying to drown out the sickening urge to join them.

* * *

I hadn't slept at all the previous night. Although I could (usually) go weeks without needing much at all, I'd found that since I'd been with Stiles, I'd gotten used to sleeping beside him every night.

I was more than a little grouchy as I walked into school that morning, the thick soles of my boots hitting the linoleum with dull thuds, a cigarette hanging from between my red lips. Although I hated school – more on principle than for any actual, valid reason – I was somewhat looking forward to a day of lounging in seats beside Stiles as I slipped him dirty notes or putting the fear of God into freshman who dared stare at me for too long.

I wasn't particularly happy, then, when Scott all but crashed into me after only the first few periods, interrupting the conversation I was having with Allison about France.

"Whoa," I said, catching the wolf before he fell to the floor, panting, eyes wild with fear. "What's wrong?" I asked instantly, listening to his heart hammer beneath his chest.

"It took him."

I merely frowned, not understanding in the slightest. "Context?" I prompted him, Allison watching on with worried eyes.

"The Darach," he elaborated under his breath, making sure we wouldn't be overheard. "It took Deaton."

"Your boss, the vet?" I asked, brows furrowed. "Do they count him as a healer?"

"They must."

"How do you know it has him?"

Scott sighed in a rare move of impatience, running a hand through his hair. "He rang me during class," he admitted breathlessly. "You need to start looking for him. _Now._"

Not even considering arguing, I nodded my head. "What will you do?"

"Stiles and I are going to the Clinic," he told me exactly as my boyfriend sped up to us, arms full of binders and textbooks.

"Any news?" the kid asked Scott, who shook his head quickly.

"I'll leave now," I told them, throwing a nod at Allison and pressing my lips to Stiles' slightly prickly cheek before slipping from the corridor and out into the sun.

Kol was at home when I got there, half asleep on the couch, Jeopardy playing on the TV in the background.

"Kol," I said crossing my arms and staring down at him in annoyance. "Kol!" I tried again, reaching down to shake him slightly. He groaned and rolled over, burying his head into the dark fabric of my couch. Irritated beyond words, I swiped a mostly empty beer bottle from the floor, bringing it down on the Original's head.

Blood dribbled down his temple, but he did nothing other than mumble a curse words and roll over to glare at me. "That was rude," he said, voice layered with distaste, not even slightly phased by the sudden attack.

"I need your help."

"What else is new?" he retorted sarcastically, and I watched as the cuts along his hairline quickly and seamlessly close themselves up.

"Could you try not to be a prick for five minutes? A man's life is on the line," I hissed irritatedly.

"And this matters _why_?"

"Because we're the motherfucking good guys, you jackass," I snarled, hoping to evoke a reaction other than amusement.

"Sure, that sounds like something the good guy would say," he teased, and my nails bit into my skin as I clenched my fists too tightly.

He said nothing more, merely eyeing me expectantly. "Fine," I snapped at him darkly. "What do you want for it?"

"Hm," he mused, putting a stupid finger to the stupid dimple in his chin and looking into the distance contemplatively. "Now, what exactly is my time _worth_?"

"I'll take you to a bar," I offered with a reluctant scowl.

He scoffed, "I can do that any old day."

"I'll hire you strippers."

"Nothing I can't compel for myself."

"I'll be your servant for a day."

"Nothing I can't compel for myself," he repeated infuriatingly, a sly smirk on his lips.

Deciding he wasn't worth my time, I rolled my eyes and spun around, heading for the door. "Whatever, Kol. You're not _worth_ anything," I called over my shoulder. I slipped from the front door, stepping out into the warm air of the middle of the afternoon, adjusting the jacket sitting on my shoulders and making my way down the stairs.

Kol was in front of me before I even reached the mailbox, seeming to appear from thin air. "Fine," he said with a heavy sigh, like he was doing me some kind of huge favour. "I'll help, but I assume you know what I'll _really_ want in return."

"If you say something sexual, so help me _God,_ Kol-"

"A favour for a favour."

I paused, narrowing my eyes against the migraine-inducing sunlight and frowning up at the older vampire. "What is it with your family and favours?" I asked, buying myself time to consider.

"Currency of the future, darling," he quipped with a carefree grin, not actually answering my question.

I weighed my options. I could say no, but that would be incredibly selfish. Wasn't that something I was trying not to be anymore? Bringing the Original along with me would almost certainly triple my chances of finding the good Doctor alive, so all I could do was grit my teeth and agree to the terms.

I stuck out my hand, and he grasped it, grinning like a shark as we shook on it.


	41. Kids In The Dark

**A/N: Hello beautiful people, I hope you like this chapter. We're coming into the final act of the season, and things are starting to get intense. I won't spoil anything, but I will say this: the honeymoon phase of the relationship may not last forever. It may not be now, but sooner or later things are going to get difficult, for more than just Jules and Stiles ;)**

* * *

_Here we are at the top of the hill - a hill that's quietly crumbling,_

_Been a while since you dressed for the kill - the kill that sent me tumbling,_

_Looking up, I see a falling star, and watch it's fire burn into the floor,_

_I am left standing on the edge,_

_Wondering why we fall so hard, why we fall so hard_

Kids in the Dark – All Time Low

* * *

"_You swept the whole east side of town_?"

"Yes."

"_And no sign of him _anywhere?"

"No."

"_Did you check the north_?"

"Of course I did."

"_And nothing_?"

"Scott," I said sharply, breaking the frantic boy from his questioning. "We're doing the best we can."

The werewolf on the other end of the line sighed, and I copied the action, watching as Kol rematerialised in front of me, coming back from his sweep of an empty warehouse. There was murmuring on the other end of the phone, then finally Scott spoke again, "_Stiles wants you to meet him at the hospital._"

"Is he okay?!" I demanded instantly, more than a little alarmed.

"_Yes, of course he is, he's just going to follow a lead_," Scott replied calmly, and I cleared my throat as though I hadn't just completely overreacted.

"Okay, keep me posted," I told him, and with a hurried farewell, the boy hung up, leaving me in the middle of the street with Kol, feeling completely alone. "I've got to go meet Stiles," I told the Original like he hadn't just heard everything. "Can you keep looking?"

"Why should I?"

I closed my eyes, pressing a hand to my forehead and sighing heavily. "Could you try not to be difficult for once in your ridiculously long life?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Kol chortled from beside me, amused by my words. "I'm going to go to that bar I like downtown," he told me casually, not actually answering my question. "I suppose I'll take the long way, see the sights this one horse town has to offer."

"That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?"

"You bet your juicy ass it is."

I didn't bother waiting around to quip back, instead legging it to the hospital. I got there in record time, eager to find my boyfriend, needing his presence almost as much as I needed another cigarette. Stiles was waiting for me at the front desk, murmuring to a familiar nurse standing behind the slab of wood dressed in baby blue scrubs.

"Good afternoon, Melissa," I greeted the woman kindly, sliding up beside my boyfriend and ducking forwards to press my lips to his cheek, pulling away with an obnoxious smacking sound.

"Hey Jules," she replied with a smile, looking between Stiles and I with happy eyes.

"I got you something," the kid said suddenly, pulling up his hand, revealing a tin water bottle.

On the side it read, in big red letters: _There's a chance this isn't water_.

Not entirely understanding immediately, I raised an eyebrow at him. He smirked, waving it gently under my nose. The scent of warm, relatively fresh blood wafted from the bottle. My eyes widened as I took it from him, unscrewing the cap and pressing my nose more firmly to the rim, inhaling the intoxicating scent.

"There's a chance it isn't water," Stiles quoted with a smirk. "It's funny, because people think the joke is that it's vodka or something, but joke's on them; it's _blood_!" he told me giddily, as though for whatever reason I wouldn't get the joke without the explanation.

"The blood's fresh," Melissa told me with a surprisingly warm smile, leaning closer and murmuring softly so we weren't overheard. "Donated only an hour ago."

"You're my new favourite person, Melissa," I whispered to her with a sly smirk.

"Hey!" Stiles cried from my side, but I ignored him in favour of taking a deep sip of my treat. I pulled away, licking my lips clean of blood and sighing happily.

"That's the good stuff," I commented, and Melissa smiled, only looking mildly disturbed.

I knew she was way more accepting of all things supernatural, but I had no idea she was so supportive as to supply me with fresh blood. That was a whole other level of support. "Don't you two have work to be doing?" she asked, pressing a fingertip to her nose pointedly as she reminded us.

"Right," Stiles snapped into action, murmuring a farewell to the woman before turning and heading for the elevators. I smiled at Scott's mom, thanking her one final time before trotting after my boyfriend, continuing to indulge in my snack.

"So what're we even doing here?" I asked once I'd swallowed my mouthful. "What's this lead we're chasing?"

"Danny," Stiles told me as we stepped into the metal box, pressing a button that lit up brightly as the box began to move. "The other night; he was clearly a target."

"But not a sacrifice," I supplied, screwing the lid back on my bottle and peering across at him curiously.

"Right, so what we need to figure out is: why attack him at all?"

I hummed, nodding as I pondered the question. "It is strange that they would poison him with a combination of both mistletoe and vervain," I muttered as the elevator dinged, Stiles stepping out first, holding the door open while I followed. "Vervain doesn't even have any effects on the human body."

"Except preventing vampire compulsion."

"But Kol and I are the only vampires in town at the moment."

"Exactly," he chimed, glancing up at the room numbers and coming to a stop in front of a specific door.

"You think he's trying to prevent one of us from learning whatever Danny knows?" I asked, beginning to see the picture come together in my head.

"Uh-huh," Stiles nodded his head, eyes flickering to each end of the long hallway to check the coast was clear before turning the handle and slipping inside the dimly lit hospital room. "Stay by the door," he whispered to me, tiptoeing further into the space. "Use the signal if you see or hear anyone coming."

My nose scrunched at his words. "What's the signal?" I murmured back, half my attention on the hall, making sure I couldn't hear any footsteps approaching the room.

He paused by the bed, glancing over at me with a helpless expression. "I don't know, whistle or something," he hissed, though not unkindly.

"Wouldn't that just draw more attention?" I asked in genuine confusion.

Stiles spluttered for a moment before huffing and turning away from me, "we don't have time to argue semantics." He wandered closer to the medicated boy's side. "Danny, are you awake?" he whispered, watching his friend closely for any signs of consciousness. He leaned forwards, gently shaking the kid's shoulder, trying to rouse him but also hoping he wouldn't awaken. Nothing happened, and I expected him to get to work, only for my dumbass boyfriend to start slapping the slumbering boy's face several times, each hit increasing in strength.

Danny sucked in a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering slightly.

"Stiles, for fuck sake," I hissed at the kid who shot back with a surprised gasp.

I expected him to chicken out, turn away and sheepishly ask me to continue, but I was pleasantly surprised when he suddenly ducked down, attention on a backpack laying beside the bed. The crisp shuffle of papers filled the room, and I frowned when I noticed Danny's eyes peek open exhaustedly.

"What are you doing?" the sick guy croaked from the sheets.

"I'm-I'm not doing anything, Danny," Stiles spoke up awkwardly, popping up from behind the bed and peering at the boy with a wince. "This is just a dream...that you're having."

I would have offered compulsion, but the boy still had vervain in his system, so it would have been useless anyway. Besides, Stiles was being amusing.

"Why are you going through my stuff?"

"Right, but only in the dream...remember? Dream...dreaming..."

"Why would I dream about you going through my stuff?"

"I don't know that Danny, okay? It's your dream; take responsibility for it. Just shut up and go back to sleep."

I chortled from my place by the door, only to cut myself off when I heard footsteps stop out in the hallway. I grimaced, cracking open the door and sticking my head out, meeting the eyes of a stern looking nurse in bright blue scrubs. "What do you think you're doing in there-?"

"You'll leave us alone and forget you saw us here," I crooned, meeting the woman's pale grey eyes.

"I'll forget I saw you," she echoed tonelessly. I blinked, releasing the lady from my hold.

"Good girl," I mumbled with a twitch of my lips, and she merely stared through me as though I wasn't even there. She turned after a beat and wandered back down the hall, feet shuffling against the linoleum floor.

"Oh Danny-boy, you might have actually found something here," Stiles murmured from inside the room, and I slipped back inside to peer over at the kid, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"What is it?" I asked softly, leaving my place by the door to drift over to his side.

"Something about...Telluric Currents?" he responded as he squinted down at the thick stack of papers in his hand. I felt myself tense, and though I relaxed myself instantly, Stiles caught the movement, more attuned to me than I ever expected. "What?" he asked warily, glancing up at me worriedly. "Do you know what those are?"

I paused, wondering where to go from there. Instead of answering, I reached down and gently pulled him into a standing position, tugging him from the room. "We have to call Scott," I told him grimly. "Now."

* * *

"It's the vault."

Of-fucking-course it was the same vault. I breathed out sharply through my nose, overwhelmed just thinking about the task before us. We couldn't even get out the door before something _else_ had to go wrong. "Guys, hold on," Lydia spoke up, making us all freeze and turn back to her.

"Lydia we don't have time!" Scott huffed seriously, heart hammering in his chest.

"It's Boyd," Cora said, staring down at her phone with wide eyes. "The plan didn't work; they cut the power."

I looked to Scott for guidance. I wasn't sure why, all I knew was that sometime over the last few weeks, he'd become the leader of our ragtag band of supernatural misfits (and Stiles). I wasn't about to jump into a volcano for the kid, but somehow I could sense that he was in charge...although I loathed to say it, he was my _alpha_.

I would go where he told me too. Whether he said to save Deaton or assist Derek, I'd do either in one of my non-existent heartbeats. I didn't even consider what _I_ thought was best, my first thought was to do what _he _told me to.

It should have irritated me, but I felt a _loyalty_ to the wolf that I never had before, except maybe for Klaus. But Scott wasn't a power-hungry Original, he was just a kid – a kid with a heart of gold – and a very close friend.

"It's just like he said," the teen wolf gasped, horror splashed across his features. We didn't have time to ask what he meant, he was already talking again. "Go, I can save Deaton myself," he instructed us, and though I was willing to do exactly as he said, I knew letting him go alone wasn't going to win idea of the year.

"You shouldn't be alone-" I tried to argue, but Scott was having none of it.

"I'll be okay," he assured me hurriedly. "You two help Derek."

Stiles stepped forwards, "Scott, what about us?"

"Cora can get there faster with you," he told his best friend softly. "Go, we can save both of them!"

He rushed from the room, and I heard the distinctive sound of his bike starting a moment later. "Come on," Stiles prompted, reaching down to grasp my hand, pulling us from the room. "Jules, run," he said the moment we were out in the fresh air.

"Are you sure?" I asked, although I knew he was doing the right thing.

"We'll only slow you down," he nodded, gently pushing me towards the exit of the parking lot. "_Go! _Save them."

I didn't wait for further further prompting, I merely shot him a concerned look before taking off into a run. My feet were nearly silent as they hit the gravel, thick soles of my boots allowing me to push myself faster. I took the quickest route to the loft, cutting corners and darting around cars as stealthily as I could.

Getting there was easy, and the moment I approached the towering building, I could pick up the stench of dog clinging to the whole area. My lips twisted into a scowl, and with a deep breath (through my mouth) I slipped inside the dwelling.

"_Derek_!" a hysterical voice shrieked as I ascended the stairs to the loft. I sped up, taking the steps three at a time. I wasn't exactly sure what I'd been expecting, but I was still surprised when I saw the teacher from school held on the landing by the alpha twins.

"Aw," one of the brothers cooed, looking over his shoulder at me, eyes glowing red. "Kitty-cat came out to play."

"Juliet!" Derek shouted from inside the loft just before his voice was cut off by a loud, wet smacking sound as he was no doubt punched and sent into the water covering the floor. Clearly we'd been around each other for way too long, and it only took the one call of my name to know what the man I (tentatively) called my friend wanted me to do.

Though I didn't have a clue why he'd want me to risk my own skin to save an insignificant teacher from the high school, I was itching to do something to help, and I _guessed_ saving an innocent _should _take priority.

The twin on the right saw the blow coming and let go of the shaking woman, reaching up to catch my wrist and using my own momentum to twist my arm around, causing it to make a loud popping noise that was probably bad.

I ripped my arm from his hold, snarling at him and dancing out of his reach. "Dick move, asshole," I sneered at him, though he only smirked widely, cracking his knuckles in a way that was probably supposed to be menacing. "You think you're a threat to me?" I asked him rhetorically.

In my peripheral vision I saw the struggling teacher shoved to the ground by the other twin, who moved to stand beside his brother, cracking his neck like something straight out of a film.

One alpha? Difficult, but not impossible.

Two? No fucking walk in the park, let me tell you.

Still, I was nothing if not confident, and I forced a fearless, toothy grin onto my face. "Do we really want to do this _again_, boys?" I asked them boldly, reminding them of the last time I'd faced them, not so very long ago now, at the abandoned space we'd had our most recent face-off.

My eyes flooded with red, the veins around my eyes appearing as my fangs slipped free from my gums.

Taking a gamble, I glanced down at the teacher who was sprawled on the floor, staring up at us with wide, frightened eyes. "Run," I told her, more of a suggestion than an order. She clearly understood the distinction, choosing to stay where she was – except to crawl away from the small landing serving as a battlefield, moving closer to the doors of the loft and murmuring Derek's name.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered the sounds of Derek's groans of pain from inside the watery home, but I didn't have any attention to spare.

The twin on the left attacked first, lunging at me. It wasn't a full moon, so it mattered little when his canine teeth sank into the flesh on my shoulder. With a mighty shove I was able to force him off of me, ducking under his brother's attack and landing a punch in his gut with my good arm.

I was strong, but two alpha werewolves? I didn't have a hope. My best bet was to keep them occupied long enough for someone else to hopefully do _something_ to put an end to the fight.

I relied on my speed, as I almost always did, darting out of the way of attacks, moving fast enough that they struggled to keep their eyes on me.

Unfortunately they weren't as stupid as they looked. They moved quickly, arms braced out as one, sending me to the floor. They were quick for wolves, too. Before I could push myself back to my feet, the toe of a boot slammed into my gut as one of them kicked me with absolute full-capacity wolf strength.

It didn't hurt that much, my tough skin taking the blow like a champ, but it did send me rolling backwards, down the steps at the entrance to the loft and into the pool of ankle-deep water. More irritated that my clothes were soaked than anything else, I hissed through my teeth, glaring up at the twins with loathing.

At least they had the decency to look slightly disconcerted.

I think they could sense my fury, and in a move that was clearly mocking, I cracked my neck, hands formed like they were claws as I took a step towards them.

Unfortunately it wasn't enough to get me out of the danger zone, and in the next heartbeat the room lit up with bright, electric blue light. Sharp pain resonated through me, starting in my feet and shooting up to my chest. I could feel the pain in every nerve ending, every cell of me.

It wasn't like it was the first time I'd been electrocuted. I had acquired my fair share of enemies over the years, and fuck were they a creative bunch. I'd never, however, been electrocuted while ankle deep in water. Thinking back to my years at college, I knew that water was a powerful conductor, so therefore it would have a more intense effect.

But, _fucking hell_, did it hurt.

The pain sizzled for a while, I couldn't be sure how long. My eyelids fluttered without my consent, and I bit my own tongue as I seized.

Finally it was over and I fell to the watery ground, huffing in pure relief that it was over. I stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly as I recovered, my ears under the shallow water, meaning everything sounded dull and muted.

I tried to tell my limbs to cooperate, but they felt fuzzy and heavy.

Finally I managed to prop myself up, eyesight taking a moment to focus as the sounds hit me like a train. People were fighting, and I didn't have to look to know who it was. It wasn't easy to run in the water, and I kind of looked like a moron, but I had to help Derek, so I charged through at full speed, not bothering to slow down as I approached, eventually slamming into the alpha bitch's side and shoving her off of Boyd, who she was holding up in front of a transformed Derek.

Unfortunately I wasn't fast enough, which wasn't a very common occurrence for me. Boyd had already been dropped onto Derek's deadly sharp claws. In a fit of anger I lashed out, punching the bitch in the mouth hard enough that she spat out a tooth a moment later.

Everything went silent, and I knew fighting wasn't an option. I had to try and help Boyd, anything else would have been pointless suicide.

The alpha bitch smirked at me even as a drop of blood rolled down her chin, completely unaffected by my attack. She didn't feel the need to retaliate, merely shoving past me roughly, heading for the door, the twins following close behind.

"I'm giving you until the next full moon, Derek," she called over her shoulder. I paid little attention, slipping to Boyd's side, wrapping one arm around his back, keeping him held up even as he bled out. "Make the smart choice, join the pack; or next time I'm killing all of you."

They left, their wet shoes squelching on the floor as they walked.

My full focus was on Boyd as I held him on Derek's claws. "Don't move," I warned him with a hiss, listening to the sound of the taller boy's heart as it began to slow. "He'll only bleed out faster."

Boyd gave a pained gasp. "It's okay," he told his alpha reassuringly. "It _is_ okay, Derek," he persisted when the green-eyed wolf panted denials.

They continued to whisper between themselves, but I was spread too thin to focus on what they were saying. My hands slipped around Boyd's front, pressing to his gaping wounds. I felt the warm blood trickle over my fingers, staining the skin red, but I couldn't have cared less.

I pressed harder to the fatal injury, hoping that if I could just stop the blood, maybe he'd eventually start the healing process. I cursed the fact that my blood would only make him sicker, seeing as his werewolf DNA would reject my vampire-cells.

"You know the solar eclipse? I always wondered what that would feel like for one of us. For a werewolf," Boyd was muttering.

"Do something!" I shouted to Isaac, who was sprawled on the floor beside the teacher, staring at the three of us in horror. He didn't move, probably in shock. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, the life was draining from him by the second, and what could he do that I couldn't?

Finally, after a long few minutes, Boyd collapsed, completely gone. Something about holding him up didn't feel right, like it was disrespectful. So I let him go, and he fell back, landing in the shallow water with a splash, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling.

I wasn't that upset about the kid himself kicking the bucket, to me he was expendable, merely a pawn. It might have sounded harsh, but it wasn't in my nature to give a damn. I was more upset that the alpha pack had gotten a one-up on us. This wouldn't help morale, and it certainly wouldn't help what little unity we had.

Something also had to be said for the loss of innocent life. In a way this was Derek's fault, he was the one who turned an innocent kid. I wasn't going to go around pointing fingers though, _that_ wouldn't help anything.

Hurried footsteps echoed on the stairs leading to the loft, and a moment later two figures spilled into the space, making a beeline straight for us. Cora collapsed next to Boyd, whimpering sadly as she took in his still form. I was expecting Stiles to come to me, so I was surprised when he made his way over to Derek who, for the first time that I'd seen, had a sheen of tears to his green eyes.

My boyfriend hesitated by the alpha, pressing his palm to his shoulder in what was an entirely human gesture of comfort. He waited a moment, squeezing once before walking around him, moving to my side.

I looked up at him from where I sat pathetically in the water, covered in werewolf blood. Even knowing I didn't need it, Stiles still held out a hand for me, and I took it, inexplicably grateful. He pulled me to my feet, eyes flickering over me – no doubt to check for injuries.

"I'm okay, Stiles," I assured him gently, and he nodded even though didn't look completely convinced. "But I do need blood," I admitted under my breath, pretending over half the room couldn't hear me anyway. "Lots of it."

And lots of blood did I get. Stiles stopped by the hospital on the way home, taking the bag from Melissa who was on her break. I should have told her that I could get it myself, but I could tell she liked providing for me, feeling like she was helping, so I let it be.

My boyfriend didn't talk much, keeping silent as he drove, staring out the window with eyes so glassy I wondered if it was safe for him to be behind the wheel.

I didn't understand why he was reacting so strongly; it wasn't like he and Boyd were friends.

We went to his house instead of mine, and I stayed silent, allowing him to process the night's events in his own time. He unlocked the front door with shaky hands, pushing the slab of wood open and stepping inside first, blindly rubbing the wall, searching for the light switch.

I waited to see what he would do, and after a moment of silence he moved up the stairs, heading for his room. I dropped my duffel bag of blood onto his desk while he too a seat on his bed, absently toeing off his shoes. I plucked a bag of A-positive from the pile, tearing off the cap and sucking the thick red substance up through the straw.

I finished my meal quickly, then downed another one just to be sure I would heal quickly. I moved from the desk, wandering over to his drawers and pulling out a pair of boxers and a shirt. Stiles was still staring into thin air, and I didn't want to crowd him, so I merely slipped from the room, heading down the hall and ducking into the bathroom.

The hot water felt glorious on my skin, wounds all but gone after my dose of blood. I was quick, using Stiles' shampoo to rinse my hair, and scrubbing at the bloodstains on my skin. I knew from _extensive_ experience that they would fade with time and not much else.

Five minutes later I slipped back into my human boyfriend's room, only to see that he had yet to move an inch.

I didn't bother asking if he was okay, I knew he wasn't, and I wasn't going to push him to talk before he was ready. I moved over to the desk, although I was no longer starving, I figured another bag wouldn't do any harm. Glancing over at him from where I was sat cross-legged on his desk sipping my dessert, an idea struck me, igniting within me like a flame of excitement.

"Let's go somewhere," I said before I could change my mind.

"Hm?" he hummed questioningly, looking over at me in the dim light of his lamp.

"Find a map, close your eyes and pick a place," I continued, gently putting down my blood bag and moving to where he sat, kneeling in front of him, pressing my palms to his knees as I stared up at him with hopeful eyes.

"You mean, leave Beacon Hills?"

"Not forever," I assured him softly, excitement building in me. "Just for a vacation. We need to get away. I'll take you anywhere you wanna go, do anything you wanna do."

"But...school-"

"You can go back in a decade, once you're turned. You're only human once, you should use your time alive to experience the earth," I persuaded him eagerly, and his heart stuttered in his chest, though I couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign.

I could see the cogs turning in his head as he considered it. I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking, and for the first time I longed to be able to compel him to tell me what was going on inside that thick and impenetrable head of his.

Finally he sagged, shoulders hunching as his eyes fluttered shut. "No matter how much I would love to run away with you, Jules," he began tiredly, intertwining our fingers together though he still didn't open his eyes, "I can't leave my dad – and I can't leave the pack. I just can't."

My unbeating heart tightened at the sincerity and pain in his usually steady voice. "I know," I whispered, because I did know – I _did _understand. He wasn't rejecting me, and he wasn't choosing them over me at all, he had a duty here, a loyalty that would probably never fade. "And I guess that's why I love you so much," I admitted, squeezing his hands before bringing them up to my mouth and pressing my lips against his clasped fingers.

Finally his eyes opened, and he met my gaze with wide, tried eyes. "One day," he swore, tightening his grip on my hands. "When this is all over...we'll run away together," he paused, a small smile flickering at his pale lips. "I hear you're pretty good at the whole running away thing. You can give me some pointers."

I grinned, forcing the expression to remain dim. It felt inappropriate to beam so widely after what we'd lost that night. "Stiles, I have a feeling that running away with you will be unlike anything I've ever done before," I told him wholeheartedly.

He tried to smile back, but the expression ended up twisting into a yawn.

"Come on, darling," I murmured gently, reaching for the hem of his teeshirt and pulling it up and off his body, chucking it to the side.

Stiles' heart raced. "Uh–Jules? I'm not really feeling up to, y'know-"

"Don't panic, Stilinski," I rolled my eyes as I spoke, pushing him until he lay on his back, staring exhaustedly up at the ceiling. I undid his pants with ease, sliding them off him until he was left in only his boxers. I crawled up beside him and pulled the blanket up with me as I went. "You need sleep."

"You're really not going to-?"

"Believe it or not, I do have _some_ sense of self-control," I teased lightly, nudging him and giving him a gentle smile.

"I love you."

My brow furrowed, not at the words said, but at the way they were spoken; desperate, like it was critical that I heard him say it. "I know," I told him, less of a _Star Wars_ reference and more of a reassurance.

"If anything happens, just know that I love you," he barrelled on, something like panic building in his chocolate-honey eyes.

I splayed my hands on either side of his face, brushing the pads of my thumbs across his sharp cheekbones. "Nothing's going to happen," I promised him, eyes flickering over the scattering of freckles and moles on his handsome face.

"You don't know that," he murmured, brows pulled together in a frown.

"I know that not even death could pull me from you." He glanced up in surprise, taken aback by the intensity of my words. "The only way I'm leaving you is if you want me gone, otherwise you're stuck with me; whether I'm alive or in ghost form."

"Well then, it's a good thing I'll never want you gone," he said, though there was curiosity in his gaze, and I knew we'd be having a conversation about the reality of ghosts by this time tomorrow night.

I wanted to say something about not knowing what I did to deserve him, but there was no way I was heading into territory _that_ cheesy, so I merely pulled his face to mine, moulding our lips together for a long, blissful moment before pulling back only to wrap my arms around him like a monkey, legs curling around his waist and the fingers of my left hand winding their way into his thick hair, tucking his head into my neck.

I smiled as he tried to inconspicuously breathe in my scent, pressing my lips gently to the crown of his head before reaching over to turn off the light. We were plunged into darkness, but my eyes adjusted as seamlessly as always, switching to night vision in the span of a seconds.

A few minutes passed and Stiles' breathing began to even out, his heart rate slowing as he drifted to sleep. I pressed my lips to his head again, lips quirking up when he unconsciously nuzzled into me.

"I love you too, Stiles."


	42. New Horizons

**A/N: An entire original chapter this time guys :) To answer a few questions, the relationship drama won't _really_ start until next season, but that's not too far away really. Also, no, there will not be any love triangles in this story. The drama comes from a different place entirely. Also the coming few chapters – not this one, though – are pretty heavy on dialogue from the show. It's done this way for a reason, but there are original things woven throughout. I think you'll still like them though. See you on the other side! **

* * *

_So you're tired but you're alive_

_So open up your eyes_

_And you can get your sleep when you are dead_

_Kill the clock inside your head_

_Bring your normalcy to the edge_

_And watch it drown in new horizons_

_New horizons_

New Horizons – Flyleaf

* * *

Finding a bloodstain on my living room carpet wasn't what I was expecting when I made my way home after school. The scent of the blood invaded my senses, and my gut ached with a sudden hunger.

I was confused for only a moment before a loud whimper from the kitchen caught my attention. "Kol," I muttered under my breath in displeasure. Making my way through my house, I was only minimally surprised to see a naked girl sprawled across my table, Kol positioned between her legs as he drank from the spot between her breasts. "What the actual fuck do you think you're doing?" I asked him dangerously, and though the girl gasped in shock, Kol merely propped his head up, catching a stray droplet of blood with his tongue.

"I didn't think I'd have to explain the birds and the bees to someone as slutty as yourself-"

"Don't get smart," I snapped, baring my teeth at him warningly. "I know _what_ you're doing, what I don't know is why the _fuck_ it's happening on my kitchen table. You know you have a bedroom, right? Or at least enough money to buy a hotel, let alone rent a room."

"Don't pretend you don't like to do the deed in exciting new places," Kol smirked, leaning down to lick at the wound on the woman's breast. "Klaus is definitely one to, what's the phrase these days? _Kiss and tell_."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but his smirk only seemed to grow as he stared up at me. I was thankful he was at least still wearing his jeans, that was one eyeful I certainly didn't need to get. "Out," I barked, losing my patience for banter.

"That's no way to ask for a favour," he tutted, bending down to suck on the compelled girl's nipple. She gasped, and I grit my teeth.

"It's not a favour if it's _my _house."

He stopped his playing, glancing up at me, mischief sparked in his eyes. "Stop acting like you don't want to be in on the action," he taunted with a leer. "Please, by all means, join in; there's plenty of blood to go around."

I was ashamed to say I considered it. Well, not really considered. I didn't _think_ that I wanted to, but I doubtlessly _felt_ that I did. "Get her off of my table or I'll-"

"You'll what?" he challenged. When I didn't reply his smirk only grew. "You know the rule, little miss Adams. Don't make threats you can't follow through on, you only look more the fool in the end."

Having had enough, I sighed as I turned, heading for the door.

"Leaving so soon?" he called after me, amusement in his tone. He was ignored.

The run to Stiles' was short as usual, and I slipped through the front door, pulling off my coat and wringing the water out of my hair. "My house has been overrun by a sexual-deviant with a superiority complex-" I paused in my careless shouting, realising that there was only one heartbeat in the house, and while at first I'd assumed it was Stiles, the sound was much too thick to be my young, healthy boyfriend. The sheriff stepped around the corner, raising an eyebrow at me dubiously. "Sheriff..." I trailed off awkwardly, attempting to plaster a casual smile on my lips.

"Stiles isn't home," he said slowly though not unkindly, watching me through narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," I nodded, clicking my tongue for lack of a better way to fill the silence. "Uh, well I guess I'll just come by later on-"

"Don't be ridiculous," he exclaimed suddenly, the moment of tension seeming to pass. "It's pouring outside. I was just about to make some soup for dinner, why don't you come eat with me? Stiles will be home soon."

I wanted to say no, but the man had his kind blue eyes focused on me, and it was the first time I'd ever even had the opportunity to _meet_ a partner's dad, as all of my exes' parents were long gone by the time I showed up. The Sheriff and I had spoken before, sure, but we'd never really been alone for extended periods of time. In some way I felt myself, for the first time, longing for the in-law's approval.

"That would be lovely," I eventually said, shuffling to the side to toe off my boots, the soles making squelching noises as I cast them aside. "Thank you, Sheriff."

"Oh please, Jules, " he replied with an easy smile, waving off my gratitude. "How many times have I said it? Call me John."

"John," I corrected with a nod, following him into the kitchen, hesitating by the table, not sure where to go from there.

"I'd offer to let you help, but I'm well aware of your misgivings in the kitchen," he said lightly, turning to throw a kind smile over his shoulder as he moved to a big pot on the stove.

"You are?" I asked in surprise, taking the initiative and slipping into a seat at the table, crossing one leg over the other and propping my chin up in my hand as I watched the man cook.

"Oh yeah," he nodded with conviction. "Ever since you came to town it's been 'Juliet can barely use a microwave' and 'I'm pretty sure Jules studied calligraphy, you should see her handwriting' and 'did you know Jules can play piano?' and 'guess what colour jeans Juliet wore today'." He paused his stirring of the pot, glancing over his shoulder at me amusedly. "I feel like I know pretty much everything there is to know about you."

I laughed, the sound only slightly awkward.

"I'm sorry to say I don't know the same about you, John," I replied as lightly as I could, trying not to think about how sure he was to eventually find out what I was, and wondering what he'd think of me then.

"Not much to know, really," he shrugged, a simple lift of his shoulders. He kept his eyes on the meal he was cooking as he spoke. "The soup is gluten and fat free, because of Stiles' ridiculous health kick. Honestly, a bullet's more likely to take me out than high cholesterol."

"He just cares a lot," I said gently, though I was sure I wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know.

John was silent for a long few minutes as he finished cooking, finally dishing out two bowls then leaving the pot covered for Stiles to get to later. He placed the food in front of us on the table, sitting down with a small grunt. "So, what're your intentions with my son?" he asked bluntly, and I was taken aback by the abrupt question.

I blinked a few times, processing what he'd said. "Uh..." I mumbled incoherently, completely stumped on how to answer.

"I'm sure you knew this conversation was bound to come at some point," he continued, lifting his spoon to his mouth and slurping the soup. I copied the action, though in a much more refined manner. It tasted good, as far as human-food went. I decided to stay silent, continuing to eat the food before me, buying myself time before I had to say something. "I like you, Jules," he said frankly, and I didn't have time to murmur a 'thank you' before he was talking again. "I think-no, I _know_ that you're good for Stiles, but something about you...I can't put my finger on it. You seem almost...dangerous?" he didn't sound very sure of himself as he spoke.

I pasted my most innocent expression on my features, blinking at him virtuously. "What do you mean?" I asked smoothly, stopping my consumption of the soup and focusing on him.

"I don't know if it's all the leather, or the smoking-" he paused, shooting me a stern look that made me feel oddly and embarrassingly chastised. "-but you give off a kind of dangerous vibe. I want to know that you're not getting Stiles caught up in any trouble."

A sick feeling curdled in my gut, and I fought to keep the wince from my face. I wasn't getting Stiles into the normal things humans considered bad news (smoking, drinking, etcetera) but in a way I had pulled him into a whole other world of trouble, a kind that could do much more damage than any party or drug could.

Late at night sometimes the guilt would hit me, and I would try to reason with myself, tell myself that with Scott getting bitten he would be caught up in the supernatural anyway. At least I was here, at least I could protect him.

Then my ingrained selfishness kicked in and the guilt faded, replaced with a warm feeling of protectiveness and pleasure.

I didn't want to lie to the Sheriff, but I also couldn't tell him the truth. "I love your son more than anything in the world," I said sincerely, meeting his eyes to convey my seriousness. "All I want is for him to be safe and happy. That's all that matters to me, John."

He wore a calculating expression for a long while. "How old did you say you were again?" he asked, something like suspicion in his tone.

"Sixteen," I lied with ease. I considered it a white-lie, even if it was a few hundred years off the mark.

"You act a lot older," he murmured, taking another sip of soup. There was a lengthy pause. "I think, under the tough exterior, you're a good kid, Juliet," he finally said, meeting my eyes once more. I glanced down at my leather pants, the old damp Strokes shirt hanging onto me haphazardly and the chunky rings on my fingers, nails painted with chipped black polish. I suppose I did dress to fit a certain archetype, perhaps I could start changing things up a little. "And if Stiles is happy, well, that's all I care about too."

His tone conveyed that the conversation was over, but I was pleased with that. We consumed our soup in silence for another long few minutes, before I spoke up again. I asked how work was going, and he sighed before replying, though with more enthusiasm than I expected. He really did enjoy his work.

We talked about some traffic violations he'd dealt out recently, and somehow the conversation transitioned into a questionnaire about my non-existent (or at least, long since dead and no longer relevant) parents.

I relayed my fake backstory, mumbling about how I had to leave at the age of fifteen, and how there was no other family to take me in so I had emancipated, deciding I'd handle small-town life better than that in New York City. He drank it in, clearly genuinely interested in the bullshit story I was weaving.

I promised myself that when he eventually found out about me, I'd sit down and tell him the real – and very long – story.

"Stiles has never really had a girlfriend before," John said suddenly, turning to me with something like mischief in his gaze, an expression I was all too familiar with, it was the same look I saw on Stiles' face every other day. "I think I should pull a cliché and show you the baby pictures."

A smile spread across my lips as I finished off the last of my soup. "That sounds perfect," I told him with a pleased smile, desperately wanting to set my eyes on the most embarrassing photographs from Stiles' childhood.

We'd cleaned up after ourselves and moved into the living room. The Sheriff disappeared for a minute and I heard him going through drawers in his office. He reappeared a moment later, three very thick photo albums piled in his hands.

"We'll start with the earlier ones," he said, tone business-like but somehow still light and playful.

He spread open a green album, turning to the first page and revealing photos of a tiny little baby boy in a dark blue onesie. Baby-Stiles was in the arms of a stunning woman with bright chocolate eyes, and I knew instantly who it was.

"This was the night after he was born," John said, turning the page quickly, his heart stuttering as he glanced at his late wife. I wanted to do something to express my sympathy, but didn't have a clue where to even begin, so I settled for pretending like I hadn't noticed anything. "This is him on his first dip in the pool," he continued, pointing to a picture of a chubby little monster being held halfway into the water by his grinning father. "And this was the first picture we got of him smiling," he told me proudly.

The photo made me ache in a way that I wasn't sure was necessarily pleasant or unpleasant, just an ache deep in my gut. In the back of my mind, I registered the feeling as pain and instantly knew the reason behind it.

I would never see a baby with that combination of chocolate eyes and impish grin ever again. I would never be able to give Stiles that, one of his very own, one that we made together.

Irritated at myself, I shoved the ache and the matching thoughts away, not in the mood.

The first album finished, then after that another one was pulled out, this one a deep red and filled with all of his school pictures. Feeling like we were on safer waters now, I leaned forwards, eager to see the embarrassing photographs.

We were at the seventh grade when the distinctive sound of the Jeep met my ears as it trudged down the road, finally pulling into the driveway. The front door opened and closed, and Stiles wandered into the room. His footsteps didn't falter as he made his way past the couch we were sat on, heading directly for the kitchen.

"Hey dad, hey Jules," the kid greeted us casually, and I followed him with my eyes as he suddenly froze in the doorway, slowly turning back around to stare at us. "Jules," he said again, meeting my amused gaze. I lifted my hand and wiggled my fingers at him lightly. "You're here," he said pointlessly, eyes darting between me and his father, "...with my dad." His eyes flickered down to the albums in front of us, "...and the photo albums."

I moved forwards, leaning in closer to the photo like I couldn't see it perfectly already. "Seventh grade..." I mused playfully, glancing back up at the human who had gone bone white. "I like your mohawk. And a shark tooth necklace? It's a wonder the girls weren't all over you."

"Okay, photo time is over!" Stiles exclaimed suddenly but unsurprisingly. I grinned up at him widely as he tripped forwards, gathering the albums in his arms and alternating between glaring at his father and wincing at me. "I'd like to show him your old pictures. I bet he'd get a kick out of the poodle skirts and shoulder pads."

"Shut up," I grumbled at him with a sour twist of my mouth before glancing back at John innocently. "I went to a lot of decade-themed parties growing up," I explained falsely, pulling Stiles' foot out of his own mouth.

"I'd love to see them some time, you should bring them around," John said enthusiastically, but I didn't react the way he expected.

I wouldn't be able to do that, not until he _knew_. I stayed silent, and this time it was Stiles who dug me out of a hole. "Sure, then we can laugh at _your_ terrible fashion choices," he said casually, pretending like nothing was wrong.

A beat passed and I recovered, pasting a smile on my face, rolling my eyes at the kid playfully. "Whatever you say, shark-tooth necklace," I teased back easily, and he grimaced before rolling his eyes, depositing all of the albums on a table in the corner before moving over to the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Soup," John called back, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at his son. "An hour ago."

I heard the sounds of Stiles getting himself a bowl, and not a minute later he wandered back into the room. "I'm gonna eat this upstairs, dad," Stiles said flippantly, one hand holding the dish while the other was held out to me. Though my brows furrowed, I still took the offered hand, allowing him to pull me up and off the couch.

"Oh," the Sheriff said, and I'd had to have been deaf not to hear the disappointment layered in that one syllable.

"Well, we could-" I began, glancing at the kid's father with sympathy.

"Enjoy the game, dad," Stiles interjected before I could finish, tugging me out of the room. I frowned, eyes focused on the back of my boyfriend's head as he pulled me up the stairs, never letting go of my hand.

I wanted to make a snarky remark about how I could get there without assistance, but decided something was clearly bothering him, so it probably wasn't the best time to be my usual, mordant self.

Once we were in his room the door swung shut and he moved over to his desk, sitting down and proceeding to practically inhale his dinner. I watched him warily. He didn't seem upset, more pensive and wary. Whatever he'd been up to that evening had taken it's toll.

"I didn't even know you could hold your breath that long," I muttered with a smirk, keeping things light as I watched him slurp at his soup without pause. "We could be putting those skills to a much better use."

He choked on the liquid, and I watched in amusement as he put down the bowl, wiping his mouth messily and glancing over at me with a glare.

"Attractive," I teased, wagging my eyebrows and making him roll his eyes. "So, what was so important that you had to ditch your own father on family game night?"

"...we don't have a family game night."

"Maybe that's the problem in the first place," I hummed, and, having had enough of my shit, he rolled his eyes _again_ and rolled his chair closer to me.

"Are you ready to hear a story?" he asked seriously, meeting my eyes head on.

Baffled but not unwilling, I nodded cautiously.

He opened his mouth, then paused. He did this several times before he finally began talking. And once he started it was like he couldn't stop. Words spilled from his mouth as he began babbling about Derek's history, all he had learnt from the two remaining members of the Hale pack.

I wasn't too sure why it mattered to us, but Stiles seemed to think it was important information, so I let him gush on about how Derek had fallen in love with a human and had eventually gotten her killed.

The similarity to my own situation made my gut churn uncomfortably, but I shoved the negativity aside, not wanting to concern myself with it.

The story was tragic, and I couldn't help the feeling of pity that simmered in my chest for the wolf. If something like that happened to Stiles, I wasn't sure I'd ever fully recover. Though, I supposed, with the way the werewolf acted most of the time, that attitude of his was probably just the visible scarring from the event.

Poor guy.

Not in the mood to spare it any more thought, I glanced back up at Stiles, who had finally finished rambling and was now fingering a healed-over cut on his hand, brow furrowed in deep thought. "Does any of this tell us where he actually is?" I asked, then cringed, realising how insensitive I sounded.

Stiles was used to this, however, and he merely sighed, rubbing his temples gently. "Not really," he huffed, dropping his head to his hands and rubbing his eyelids with his palms. "I wish compulsion worked on werewolves."

"Don't we all?" I murmured back with a click of my tongue. Stiles still looked put out. "I'm sure he'll turn up," I assured him as best I could, though my heart wasn't really in it. "And even if he doesn't, it's not like we won't get by without him," I added, then felt like even more of a dick for just opening my big mouth.

Stiles sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning back in his chair, eyes trailing over me for a long moment before they flickered up to the cream paint of the ceiling.

I didn't want to bring up what was bugging me; it was stupid and embarrassing, and yet I couldn't help but feel a niggling itch in my stomach, urging me to just _say it already_.

"Do you want kids?"

Horror and irritation filled me, and I fell back on the bed, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring up at the ceiling so I wouldn't have to watch his reaction. His heart stuttered, but other than that I didn't see any other strong response to my left-field question.

"Why do you ask?" he questioned cautiously, I could hear it in his voice.

I shrugged against the mattress, even though he probably couldn't tell. "I don't know," I lied, and he was quiet. Even in the silence I knew what he was thinking. I huffed a breath out through my nose, closing my eyes and rolling them under the shut lids. We'd talked about it before, sure, but never so seriously. "I was looking at your baby pictures," I admitted, cursing the hold the human had over me. "You were a cute kid." I paused again, wondering how to continue. "You don't ever want little Stiles' running around? All big brown eyes and wild dark hair and mumbling nonsense in their sleep?"

It was bothering me, and I _had_ to know, even if asking made me feel uncomfortably insecure.

"If it happened," he began, uncharacteristically serious. "Then I would be happy." I winced, the words hurting more than I expected them to. "But it's not like that's all I want out of life."

I bit my lip, trying to stop myself but not able to rein in my curiosity. "What_ do _you want out of life?"

He didn't even hesitate as he answered.

"You."

I melted like butter, muscles relaxing as my eyes flickered open. I still didn't look at him, instead keeping my head tipped back so I could easily stare at the ceiling.

"I love you, you know?" I had to be sure he knew.

The springs of his desk chair squeaked as he stood, socked feet padding on the carpet as he moved over to the bed, dropping on top of me and crawling up my body. Though reluctant, I still met his gaze when his head reached mine, blinking up at him with vulnerable eyes. "I love you," he told me, heart steady in his sincerity.

Finally I smiled, feeling mostly reassured. I lifted my head, bumping his nose with mine before pressing our lips together, knowing that I had exactly what I wanted out of life too.


	43. Wonderland

**A/N: I didn't get many reviews last time, and more than anything I'm just worried you guys are getting bored? Please let me know what you think, if only so I'm not sitting here worried that nobody's interested any more. I hope you like this one.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise, and anything pop-culture mentioned isn't mine.**

* * *

_So we went on our way_

_Too in love to think straight_

_All alone or so it seemed._

_But there were strangers watching_

_And whispers turned to talking_

_And talking turned to screams._

_Didn't they tell us don't rush into things?_

_Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?_

_Didn't you calm my fears with a Cheshire cat smile?_

_Didn't it all seem new and exciting?_

_I felt your arms twisting around me_

_It's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind._

Wonderland – Taylor Swift

* * *

A shrill ringing sound interrupted my slumber, and I opened my eyes irritatedly, unable to help the small growl that escaped my lips as I peered at the buzzing cell phone, the screen lighting up the otherwise dark room.

Stiles groaned from beside me, arm tightening around my middle as he burrowed his head deeper into my neck. "Ignore it," he murmured sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes. "Only answer if they ring twice."

"Why twice?" I questioned curiously, turning over to wrap myself further into him, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

"If it's important they'll always try twice."

A moment later the phone rang out, the room once again thrown into blackness as it stopped glowing.

"See?" he muttered into my skin, and if he wasn't so tired I knew he'd sound smug.

Relaxing, I melted back into the pillows, running my fingers through his hair and allowing my eyes to drift shut again.

Then the familiar vexatious tune of _my_ ringtone filled the room, the phone on the other side of the bed lighting up brightly. Stiles bolted up, trapped by his own rule, smothering a yawn as he scrambled over top of me to answer the phone, not apparently stopping to consider that it was mine.

"What?" he barked into the cell, clearly wanting nothing more than to get back to bed, which I couldn't say I didn't agree with.

I was sleepy, but still alert enough to catch the words spoken on the other end of the line. It was Scott, mumbling something in quick, frantic tones, instantly catching my attention. "_We're at the school,_" he finally told Stiles, not sounding the least bit surprised that he'd been the one to answer my phone. "_Hurry._"

As soon as he hung up, Stiles dove over to his closet, tugging a hoodie off a hanger and slipping his arms into the sleeves. He glanced over at me, noticing that I had yet to move. "As much as I would love to see you half-naked for the rest of the evening, I have a feeling Scott and the girls will feel differently." I didn't move, too reluctant to leave the comfort of his soft sheets. "Pants; now," he prompted me with an eye roll, scooping my discarded jeans from the floor and hurling them in my direction.

I complied with a sigh, doing it quickly before reaching over and slipping on my leather jacket over the old shirt of Stiles' that I was wearing. "So what's this about?" I asked conversationally as he hopped on one leg, haphazardly tying his shoe.

"I guess we'll find out when we get there," he responded curtly, but I knew it was more out of anxiety than anything else. I followed him down the stairs, darting out the door and hopping in the Jeep before he was fully out of the house. At an irritatingly human pace, he made his way to the driver's side, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine.

The drive to the school was short and familiar, only the sound of some shitty talkback radio filling the cab until Stiles got too annoyed and turned it off.

"Wait," I said as we pulled up, hand snapping out to wrap around Stiles' forearm, stopping him from moving. I tilted my head slightly further out the open window, sniffing delicately and grimacing at the flare of hunger that surged through me.

"What is it?" he asked worriedly, staring over at me through the dark.

I glanced back at him, feeling my eyes flash dark red. "Blood."

"Where is she?" was the first thing my boyfriend said as he leapt from the vehicle, eyes sweeping the parking lot for a sign for the suspiciously supernatural girl, my words having shaken him.

"Over here," Scott said, gesturing to the right, where Allison and Lydia stepped from the shadows. I struggled for a moment with my instinct to feel jealous; Stiles was awfully concerned about Lydia. Reprimanding myself silently, I scowled, of _course_ he was worried. They were friends, I would feel the same about Scott or Allison.

"Lydia?" Stiles asked, taking a step forwards but otherwise not reacting.

"Same thing; exact same thing as the pool," the redhead told us, worrying her bottom lip and twisting her hands together in front of her stomach anxiously. "I got into the car, heading somewhere totally different, and then I ended up here. You told me to call you if there was a dead body."

"You found a dead body?!"

"Not yet."

I frowned confusedly, eyeing the girl with narrowed eyes. "Not yet? What do you mean, not yet?" Stiles demanded, but my attention was on the aroma floating on the breeze. Instantly I began to scan the horizon, looking for the source of the mouthwatering scent. "Lydia, you're supposed to call us _after_ you find the dead body."

My focus had shifted. I could still hear them in the background, but I was being dragged towards the cause for the smell. I seemed to be tugged towards it, probably because I hadn't fed in far too long. I would need to do it soon, lest something unforgivable happened. "Oh no, I'm not doing that again. _You_ find the dead body from now on."

"How are we supposed to find the dead body? You're _always_ the one finding the dead body."

"Guys!" Scott interrupted them, and I looked over at him from where I now stood beside the school sign, mere feet away from the source of the intoxicating smell of blood. "Juliet found the dead body."

For some reason the scent was affecting me much more than it should have been. I bit the inside of my cheek to try and distract myself. "Jules?" Stiles asked tentatively, and I could hear his footfalls crunching on the gravel as he approached. My boyfriend's heart stuttered as he saw the identity of the corpse. "Oh, my God," he mumbled, sounding like he was going to be sick.

I took in the deputy uniform the dead woman was wearing and realised that Stiles must have known this woman. Judging by the distraught expression pasted across his face, I was correct.

Taking charge and stepping forwards, I haphazardly threw my cell phone in Scott's direction. "Call 911," I instructed him, moving closer to my human, whose eyes had gone glassy.

Scott did as he was told, and Allison and Lydia were mumbling to each other a few feet away. Gently throwing an arm around Stiles' shoulders, I herded him away from the small group, off to the side where only Scott would be able to hear, and only if he wanted to.

"She worked with your dad?" I asked softly, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," he muttered, blinking rapidly as he processed everything. "She used to help me with my homework while I was waiting for my dad to get off work," he admitted, sounding pained.

Not exactly known for my comforting skills, I struggled for a way to help him. "If it makes you feel any better, she didn't suffer," I told him quietly, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "Those wounds were too fatal, she'd have been dead in seconds."

He turned a sickly shade of green. "I love you for trying to help," he choked roughly, tone making it clear that I _wasn't_ helping. I let go of him, feeling like a pathetic excuse for a girlfriend.

"Juliet!" I spun around at the sound of my name, blinking at Scott with alarm. "Do you smell that?" he asked, head titled up to the moonlight as he sniffed the air.

I copied the action, taking in the odd scent. "You stay," I told him, glancing at the girls pointedly as he looked like he was about to protest. He sighed, frowning but nodding his head. I turned back to Stiles. "I've got to follow this lead," I told him regretfully.

He nodded, understanding as always. "I'll see you later," he promised, and I pecked him chastely on the cheek before disappearing from the parking lot, following what remained of the trail left by the Darach.

* * *

"We have a plan."

I looked up from the ground where I was stepping on ants, amusing myself as best I could while I puffed absentmindedly on a cigarette. "Like the time you double crossed us without actually double-crossing us?" I asked flatly, though the words held no malice. I was over that particular indiscretion; but it was nice having something to hang over the teen wolf's head on occasion.

"It worked, didn't it?" he responded, a slight smile on his lips.

I rolled my eyes. "Fair enough," I allowed, flicking the ash from the tip of my stick and peering at him through the dark tint of my sunglasses. "Pray tell," I continued, cocking my head and licking my red painted lips. "What's Scott McCall's next brilliant plan?"

"We've got Lydia distracting Aiden, and Stiles and I are going to talk to Ethan," he told me quickly, glancing over his shoulder as though checking we were alone.

My eyes swept the area, satisfied when I knew it was void of prying ears. "And you want me to...what?" I asked curiously, taking another drag of smoke and raising an eyebrow.

"Help us talk to Ethan," he said, definitely _not_ begging.

"Because I'm _so _good at passive confrontation," I murmured sardonically, and Scott sighed, though didn't deflate.

"I'd just..." he began, seeming to have trouble getting the words out. He sighed, running a finger across his eyebrow. "I'd feel better if I had some backup."

That was all I needed to hear. "You got it," I told him with a nod, sucking in one final lungful of chemicals before dropping the cigarette to the cement and crushing it under my boot. I slid my sunglasses off, hooking them at my neckline.

"Just like that?" he asked, sounding wary.

"Just like that," I echoed, and he seemed surprised yet content with my answer.

I followed him through the school, the hallways empty as most students were in their classes. We met Stiles by the locker rooms and I greeted him with a kiss on the cheek but otherwise kept public displays of affection to a minimum.

Stiles, ever the mastermind of our eclectic pack, knew that Ethan had a free period right then, and it wasn't hard at all to determine he'd be in the library, where it would be quiet and he could relax without his brother by his side.

"I think Jules should go in," Stiles chimed under his breath as we approached the library doors.

"Are you sure?" Scott asked just as quietly, sounding doubtful. "We need to be delicate about this."

"Are you saying I'm not delicate?" I asked sharply, and Scott shifted uncomfortably. I stopped walking, bringing both boys to a halt. "Just go wait on the east stairwell," I instructed them lazily, running a hand through my loose, dark hair. "I'll collect the pup and bring him to you on a silver platter."

"That nerve is exactly the type of attitude that'll get you killed," Scott said softly, sounding nothing but concerned.

"I think we could all use a little nerve right about now," Stiles interjected, and I could tell the wolf knew he had a point. I smiled happily at my boyfriend, winking at him playfully before gently shoving them in the direction of the stairs.

"Go," I ordered, and they did as they were told.

I considered painting on lipstick and unbuttoning my shirt, but quickly remembered this particular alpha batted for the other team. It'd been a long time since I'd had to seduce someone intellectually, instead of physically; I always did enjoy a good challenge.

"Spoiler alert: Jesus dies."

Ethan looked up from the bible he was skimming, an irritated look on his severe features.

"Why's a damned-to-hell wolf such as yourself reading the good book anyhow?" I continued casually, dropping into the seat opposite him and immediately kicking my feet up on the desk and peering at him steadily.

"English assignment," he bit out, sounding less than thrilled to be conversing with me.

I clicked my tongue, not even bothering to pretend I cared. "We want to talk."

He frowned, "Deucalion is-"

"Not who I'm referring to."

He paused, surprise showing on his features before he forced calmness to overtake them. "Me?" he asked, though he already knew. "Why?"

"I guess you'll find out when you follow me," I whispered back with a smirk.

He hesitated. "Is this a trap?" he asked, clearly not one to beat around the bush.

"I swear on my unbeating heart that this is in no way a trap." He didn't look impressed, but also didn't look like he thought I was lying, so I decided to count that one as a win.

The walk to the east stairwell was done in complete and only slightly awkward silence. My footfalls we silent on the ground, Ethan's making only minor thuds. The boys turned to look at us as we approached, and I slipped up the stairs, moving to Stiles' side instantly, hoping I didn't look protective as I stood just slightly in front of him.

"What's this about?" Ethan asked lowly. "Why are you even talking to me? I helped kill your friend, how do you know I won't kill another one?"

I didn't miss the way his gaze slid to Stiles, and I was a millisecond from exploding when Stiles spoke up. "Is he looking at me?" he asked offhandedly, peeking over at Scott. "Are you _threatening_ me?" Sometimes I forgot that Stiles didn't always need protecting. "You know what I'm going to do?" he began darkly, gently but firmly pushing me aside as he stepped up to the much larger wolf. "I'm going to break off an extra large branch of mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe and shove it up your freaking-"

"Whoa, whoa," Scott tried to defuse the tension my boyfriend was creating. "Stiles, okay. We get it."

The lanky boy stepped back, giving what he probably thought was an intimidating nod in Ethan's direction. As soon as he was within reach I curled myself around his arm, pressing my face into his neck. "I have never been more attracted to you," I whispered to him with total honesty, a warm, thick feeling filling my gut.

I didn't bother glancing at the alpha wolf, but I could feel the disgust radiate from his person. "Ignore them," Scott said quickly as Stiles glanced down at me with surprised eyes. "We're talking to you, because I know that you didn't want to kill Boyd," the beta continued, and I finally tore my eyes from my human's to peer over at the lonesome twin, arms still looped through Stiles', a subtle warning to the beast. "I think that if something like that happened now, you wouldn't do it again."

"You don't know what we owe them," Ethan responded tightly. "Especially Deucalion. We weren't like Kali and Ennis when we met him. We weren't alphas."

"What were you?"

"Omegas."

I let out a breath, clicking my tongue in mock sympathy. "You were their _bitches_," I sang impishly, and Scott sent me an irritated look, leaving me feeling oddly scolded.

"In actual wolf packs, omegas are the scapegoat; the last to eat, the one who _has_ to take abuse from the rest of the pack."

"So you and your brother _were_ the bitches of the pack," Stiles interrupted, and I smirked happily. Damn, was he going to be rewarded for his attitude later tonight.

"Something like that," Ethan allowed begrudgingly, looking like he'd love nothing more than to hit my face with his fist.

"What happened?" Scott asked before things could escalate.

"They were killers. I mean, people talk about us as monsters; well they were the ones who gave us the reputation. Our alpha was the worst of them."

"Why didn't you guys just fight back?" Stiles asked, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked riling the werewolf up, and I couldn't say I blamed him. "Form _Voltron_ wolf, y'know? Kick everyone's asses?"

"We couldn't, we didn't know how to control it back then."

"Deucalion taught you," Scott said in realisation.

"And then we fought. We took down the whole pack; one by one. By the time we got to our alpha, he was begging for his life."

I could hear the barely restrained exhilaration in Ethan's voice. It was a tone I was familiar with, having heard it in my own voice too many times to count. My stomach swooped and my teeth ground together at the tingling sensation I felt in my gums as my fangs begged to be allowed to descend. I silently berated myself for feeling that way. My days of chaos and murder were long behind me.

I hoped.

"And we tore him apart," Ethan finished with a sneer. "Literally."

"What about your emissary?" The alpha wolf shook his head, eyes lowered to the floor in something akin to shame. "They're all dead? Kali and Ennis' too?"

"All of them except for Deucalion's."

I frowned, and Stiles bristled beside me. "You mean Morrell?"

He was about to answer, but he cut himself off with a hiss of pain, hand darting to his chest.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Scott asked worriedly.

"Not me," Ethan responded with wide eyes.

Instinctively I sniffed, and though I could tell _this_ wolf wasn't wounded, I could tell that a wolf was wounded_ somewhere _in the school. "Blood," I murmured to the boys, eyes unfocused as I attempted to listen for whatever was causing the blood.

"My brother," Ethan said suddenly, and before I knew what was happening he'd shot off down the hall, heart slamming fearfully in his chest. Letting go of Stiles, I took off after him, catching up with relative ease but then letting him lead the way to the locker room.

The door banged open as he tore his way through, heading directly for his twin. I took in the scene before me. Aiden was laying into Cora, who was on the ground, bleeding heavily. With an irritated sigh I dashed across the wet floor, one hand wrapping around the injured alpha's neck and using my impossibly fast momentum to take his feet out from under him and slam his head and back into the tiles, which cracked loudly under the assault.

I'd managed to momentarily incapacitate him (though probably only because I had the element of surprise; on the scale of vampire to werewolf strength, I was considered to be somewhere at the bottom). Thankfully I didn't have to pull any more miracles out of my ass, because Scott and Aiden were there, leaning over the wolf, holding him to the shattered tiles.

"You can't do this!" Ethan yelled at his brother.

"She came at _me_!" Aiden responded furiously.

"It doesn't matter! Kali gave Derek until the next full moon, you can't touch him _or_ her!"

The angry brother didn't look too pleased with this, but at least he didn't argue, merely baring his teeth at me for a flash before ignoring Scott's offered and and climbing to his feet himself, storming from the room.

I sighed, already exhausted as I rubbed my fingers across my brow.

"Hey guys, I think she's pretty hurt," my boyfriend's voice spoke up, and I glanced down at the people on the floor, Stiles leaned over Cora, eyes flickering over her in concern.

I sank to my knees, grimacing as I placed a hand to the dazed girl's forehead. "Is there anything you can do?" Scott questioned from above me, and I didn't even spare a moment to send him the irritated look I was feeling in my gut.

"Sure, let me just call the werewolf EMTs," I murmured back sardonically, and all I received in response was silence. I used my thumb to hold her right eyelid open widely, watching the way the pupil reacted to the light overhead. "She's got a concussion," I informed them dryly. "But that shouldn't be a problem, just give her a few minutes to heal, and then a few hours on top of that, and she'll be right as rain, I'm sure."

She did take a while to come round, groaning as she accepted Scott's hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She winced as the lights hurt her no doubt sensitive eyes, and she moved over to the sinks without a word, peering at herself in the mirror, tentatively prodding the bleeding wound at her hairline.

"You okay?" Stiles asked with a grimace.

"She doesn't look okay," Lydia replied out of the corner of her mouth.

"I'll heal," Cora interjected with a scowl, and I could literally hear her teeth grind together in either annoyance or anger. She took a step back, though she instantly wavered, losing balance for a moment as she began to fall. Stiles instantly lunged forwards, hand grasping her elbow to keep her steady. "I said, I'm fine," she bit out, clearly less than pleased by his concern. I didn't like the attitude – especially not directed at my human – but I was willing to let it slide seeing as the girl _did_ have a pretty severe concussion.

"Do you realise how suicidally crazy that was?" Stiles asked her with a sour face, trying to comprehend her actions. "What were you thinking, going after them?"

"I did it for Boyd," she snapped furiously, eyes watering, though I knew she'd deny it. "None of you were doing anything."

"We're trying," Scott swore sincerely.

"And you're failing." I narrowed my eyes at her, but Stiles knew my thoughts before I'd even thought them, and his hand slipped into my own, only to hold me back rather than offer any comfort. "You're just a bunch of stupid teenagers," she continued darkly. "Running around, thinking that you can stop people from getting killed, but all you do is show up late. All you _really_ do, is find the bodies." She turned to leave but paused, eyes sliding to meet mine. "Or _make_ the bodies."

With that she left, leaving the others shocked and me irrationally furious. It wasn't like anything she was saying wasn't true.

"She's definitely a Hale," Stiles mumbled with a huff. He glanced over at me, stepping forwards and dragging me with him. "We'll make sure she gets home," he told them, and though I wanted to argue, I knew I had to pick my battles, and this wasn't one of them. "Cora!" Stiles called out, hurrying after her as she wandered unsteadily down the hallway.

"What?" she grumbled, sounding irritated as hell.

"Come on," he said, reluctantly letting go of my hand to press his to her back, guiding her down the hall. "We're not letting you walk home alone after what just happened."

Cora snorted, but the sound was weak. "Like _she_ cares," she spat like the pronoun referring to me made her sick.

"Maybe not," Stiles allowed, knowing better than to spin some bullshit lie. "But I do, and your brother does."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but ultimately decided against it, muttering curses under her breath as she continued to soldier on, staggering through the hall towards the front entrance. She sucked in a sharp breath every few minutes, holding a hand to her head before grunting in a very Derek-like fashion and pretending nothing had happened as she continued forwards.

"You know, maybe you should go see Deaton," Stiles suggested as we stepped out into the fresh air, the doors swinging closed behind us with a loud creak. "Get that head wound looked at."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm _fine_?" she snarled weakly, following Stiles to where his Jeep sat in a spot only a couple hundred feet from the doors.

"He'd be more inclined to believe you if you didn't have blood running down your face," I mumbled as I stepped around her, ensuring that I was the first one at the front seat, forcing the injured wolf into the back. She shot me a scowl – more of a bitter twist of the mouth than anything – and slid into the back.

I settled in to the passenger seat, kicking my legs up onto the dash like I had a million times before. Stiles shot me a halfhearted glare that I was all too used to, and started the car, pulling out onto the main road.

My boyfriend began to drum his fingers on the steering wheel, obviously feeling the tension in the small, enclosed space of his car. "Who's up for some music?" he asked over enthusiastically, reaching out and hitting the button, some kind of unpleasant techno sounds filling the Jeep.

Cora grunted from behind us, leaning over the seat and jabbing the button with unnecessary force. "No," she barked, sitting back and holding her head once more.

"Aw, come on!" Stiles mumbled, switching lanes and taking a second to pout over his shoulder. "Who doesn't like _Gorillaz_?"

"What the fuck is a _Gorillaz_?" she sneered with disgust, like even though she had no idea what it was she already hated it.

"Is it seriously some kind of ingrained trait of the supernatural that you all have no appreciation for pop culture?" he complained, though it was mostly in jest.

Both of us were saved from replying when his phone rang, and he reached out and tapped the button, answering the call.

"Hey Allison, what's up?" he said loudly, glancing down at her name before focusing on the road.

"_We found something_," she said instantly. "_You know how my dad was marking all the abduction and sacrifice sites_?"

"Yeah..." he prompted.

"_Well we found something else written underneath the map. He has each sacrifice group labelled in a five fold knot_."

I winced, that never meant anything good. "What are they?" I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

"_Healers, guardians, virgins, warriors, and philosophers_."

"Philosophers?" Stiles asked, sounding bemused.

"_And guardians, which means after last night _has_ to mean something like...law enforcement_?" Allison responded, and I nodded absently, mind a million miles ahead of the conversation. "_Stiles, you have to tell your dad. Tell him whatever you need but you _have_ to get him to believe. Tell your dad, warn him._"

"Okay," he said, heart speeding up in his chest. "I know."

With a sigh he hung up, frowning out at the road and the rapidly setting sun.

"What are you gonna do?" Cora asked curiously from the backseat.

Stiles paused, "I'm going to tell him the truth." He peeked over at me, meeting my eyes with something like worry or fear in his own gaze. "And I'm gonna need your help," he told me, and I immediately nodded, reaching over to where his hand sat on the gearshift, wrapping my fingers around his. He glanced in the mirror, addressing Cora. "Both of you."

He rang his dad, telling him he urgently needed to speak with him and begging the sheriff to meet him at home. John sounded reluctant, busy with work, but the critical tone in his son's voice convinced him to take a late lunch and hurry home.

He wasn't expecting me, let _alone_ Cora Hale to be waiting along with Stiles in his room. "Stiles?" John asked warily, arms crossed over his chest. "What's going on?"

Cora was sitting on the bed, still slightly unsteady on her feet. I perched myself on the desk, kicking my legs under me and watching as my human paced anxiously. "Well, you see-" he began, only to cut himself off and resume pacing. "The thing is-no," he paused again, grimacing and chewing on his knuckles as he struggled to find the words. "Yes, okay...no-"

"Stiles," John said slowly, heart beginning to speed up in his chest. His eyes flickered from his son to me warily. "Is Jules pregnant?" Stiles nearly had a heart attack, breath catching in his throat as he choked on his own spit and coughed madly. The sheriff turned to me, desperate for an answer. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

I smirked, rolling my eyes at my boyfriend's reaction. "I assure you, John, I'm not pregnant," I assured him calmly. I felt my amusement waver for a moment. Shortly John would know the truth, would he still consider me a good person to be with his son, once he knew what I'd done in my past; what I'd _been_ in my past; what I was _now_?

"Well then, what, Stiles?!" the sheriff prompted firmly, narrowing his eyes at his son once the relief had faded from his face.

"Dad, I'm just trying to figure out how to start, here," he sighed, gesturing wildly as his heartbeat grew faster and faster in his chest.

"I don't have this kind of time," John told his son seriously.

"For the last year, you had all these cases that you couldn't figure out, right?" he began, words spilling from his mouth quickly now that he'd begun. "I mean, all the murders involving Kate Argent; Matt killing all the people who had drowned him, and all these murders right now...it's like you've been playing a losing game."

"Stiles, the last thing I need right now is a job performance review from my own son."

The kid looked distraught for a moment before something in the corner caught his eyes. He lunged for it, reappearing with a chess set in his hands. Gently he nudged me off the desk, one hand on my hip. I did as directed, landing firmly on my feet and staying close to Stiles' side, letting him know I was there, supporting him, no matter what.

"That's just it, dad. The reason you're losing the game is because you've never been able to see the whole board," he told his father, laying the board out on the desk I'd just vacated. "I need to show you the whole board."


	44. Astronaut

**A/N: Wow, the response to last chapter absolutely floored me. I guess you guys aren't bored after all, I'm extremely glad! I hope you like this chapter, and for those anticipating drama, you may have to wait just a _tiny_ bit longer ;)**

* * *

_I'm deafened by the silence_

_Is it something that I've done?_

_I know that there are millions_

_I can't be the only one who's so disconnected_

_It's so different in my head._

_Can anybody tell me why I'm lonely like a satellite?_

Astronaut – Simple Plan

* * *

"Scott and Derek are werewolves."

"Yes," Stiles sighed exasperatedly, glancing down again at the board where he'd labelled each chess piece as one of the local supernatural.

"And Kate Argent, was a werewolf."

"Hunter," Stiles corrected quickly, holding up the assigned piece. "Purple's hunter."

"Along with Allison _and_ her father," Cora spoke up from where she still sat on the bed. I stood behind Stiles, hands resting comfortingly on his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, and my friend Deaton, the veterinarian, is a...kanima?"

"What?" I asked bemusedly, where the hell had he pulled that one from?

"No, no," Stiles shook his head. "He's a druid...well, we think."

"...so who's the kanima?" he asked in honest confusion.

"Jackson."

"Jackson's a werewolf," Stiles corrected again. "He was the kanima first, and then Peter and Derek and killed him and then he came back to life as a werewolf, now he's in London."

"And what's Juliet?" he asked, pointing up at me. I had instantly noticed Stiles didn't put me on the board, and I still wasn't entirely sure what to make of that small action. Was he afraid of his father's reaction? Or worse, was he ashamed?

"Not important," Stiles shook his head. An unpleasant feeling curdled in my stomach and my hands slid from his shoulders, arms folding across my chest tensely.

John looked like he wanted to argue, but there were more pressing things to worry about. "Who's the Darach?"

"It's Dar_ach._"

"We don't know yet," Cora said tersely.

"But he was killed by werewolves?"

"Slashed up and left for dead."

"We think," Cora mumbled.

"Yeah, not altogether clear on that one," I added with pursed lips, clicking my tongue awkwardly when John's serious blue gaze met my own emerald green one.

I nodded, not sure why he would be looking to me for answers. Either way he seemed to accept my nod, sighing heavily and leaning back in his seat, once against observing the chess board. "Why was Jackson the kanima?"

"Because sometimes the shape that you take reflects the person that you are," Stiles said, scowling at the mere thought of the lizard.

"And what shape would an increasingly confused and angrier by the second father, take?"

I exhaled sharply. So he didn't believe us. Of course, I hadn't expected him to, not at first anyway. But I wasn't about to show him first hand, I wanted to prepare him for that first, lest he come at me with the full strength of the town's police force, I could only handle being attacked by pitchforks so many times before I got exasperated. Stiles stuttered a reply, swallowing thickly as his dad shot him a severely unimpressed look.

"Dad, look, I can prove it!" he said as his father stood from his chair, preparing to storm from the room. "She's one of them!" he told him, gesturing violently to Cora who was looking worse for wear.

"Stiles!" John snapped loudly and seriously. "That's enough."

"Dad, can you _please_ just hold on?" Stiles begged, making John pause in the doorway, looking back at his desperate son. "Ready?" he asked Cora, who stood up shakily. "Okay dad, just watch this," he said, just as the youngest Hale collapsed to the floor.

I caught her before her head hit the carpet, holding her up with ease and gently patting her face. The sheriff raced forwards. "Call an ambulance," he ordered Stiles, who hesitated.

"She has a concussion, but it should have healed by now," I told the man, carefully monitoring her heartbeat as it raced.

"What do you mean, 'it should have healed by now'?" John demanded. "Stiles, what the hell are you doing? Call. An. Ambulance."

I placed my hand on his arm, stopping him. "We can't risk exposure," I told him gently. "The hospital's not an option."

"The hell it isn't," he responded tightly, completely ignoring me as he reached for his own cell, pulling it from his belt and dialling 911. Deciding to let the sheriff have his way, I allowed him to make the call, resolving that I would just stay beside her at all times and compel the memories away of anyone who noticed the abnormal DNA within her.

John said nothing except things to try and rouse Cora, completely ignoring his son and I as he focused on the girl on the floor, her head placed precariously in my lap.

They wouldn't let me ride in the ambulance with her, but I figured they wouldn't discover much in the short trip to the hospital, so I relented and let Stiles drive us instead. "We can't let them do blood tests, right?" he asked as we followed the ambulance, driving over the speed limit in it's wake.

"Right," I nodded, one ear focused on what was happening inside the van in front of us. "Because they'll find animal DNA."

"What would they find in yours?"

"Is this really the time for vampire biology 101?" I asked, more snappy than I intended to sound. He didn't respond other than to send me a look, one that instantly had me giving in. "An escalated white blood cell count, an impossibly small red blood cell count, lack of proteins and vitamins. Not to mention it doesn't flow through my veins like a human's does."

"Because your heart doesn't beat, right?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

I felt uncomfortable with the line of questioning it was leading to, I hated when the differences between our species were pointed out. "Why didn't you tell your dad about me?"

"Huh?" he hummed, caught off guard by the question.

"On the chess board?" I prompted him. "Why didn't you include me?"

He hesitated, heart stuttering in his chest, giving away his nerves. "I wasn't sure...I don't think my dad...not that he won't, but at first...I mean...at least, given time..."

"Full sentences, Stiles," I reminded him, and he swallowed loudly, nodding to himself as he pulled into the hospital parking lot.

"It...it was just a lot to tell him in one go, and I figured the part about you wasn't completely necessary to these killings, so I guessed it could wait. Telling my dad that my girlfriend was one of the living dead isn't at the top of the list of things I feel like doing."

It was fair enough, but I still felt a sting at his words. Deciding it was a better idea to say nothing at all, I merely hopped from the Jeep the moment it was idle, slipping through the lot and towards the door.

It wasn't hard to find Cora's room – I just followed the stench of wet dog – but was promptly shoved from the space, the nurses having none of my presence. I didn't particularly care, content to merely wait outside the room, keeping an ear trained on what was happening within.

"It's not guardians," Stiles said, appearing by my side. I turned to look at him lazily, raising an eyebrow to get him to continue. "Allison called Scott who called me," he explained quickly, glancing around as nurses and orderlies rushed by us, hardly paying us any attention. "It's not guardians as in law enforcement. It's philosophers as in teachers."

I nodded, "that does make more sense." I paused, considering something. "But Tara-"

"Used to teach middle school." We were silent, considering the new information. "They found another body," he told me softly. "The history teacher."

"Fantastic," I muttered sardonically, fingers twitching, eager to be holding a cigarette.

John walked by, catching Stiles' attention. He turned to follow, calling back to me over his shoulder, "call Derek! Tell him about Cora!"

"But he's gone MIA!" I argued with a scowl.

"Doesn't mean he isn't checking his voicemail!"

I huffed, irritated but resigned. "Call Derek, Juliet. Don't let Cora be exposed, Juliet. Don't tell dad what you are, Juliet," I muttered under my breath, punching the buttons harder than necessary as I rang the older Hale.

There was no personal recording, just an automated voice telling me to leave a message at the tone.

"Derek, your sister's in the hospital. Room 503. Hurry up and get your ass here before I get bored of watching over her like some fucked up half-dead guardian angel."

I ended the call roughly, shoving it back into my pocket and crossing my arms moodily, leaning back against the wall and closing my eyes.

I didn't want to admit how terrified I was about the Sheriff finding out the truth. Because I was; I was petrified. Not so much about the town coming after me with pitchforks and torches, that wouldn't be anything I hadn't handled before. But I was scared that the tentative relationship John and I had built would crumble.

I liked talking with Stiles' dad, I liked when he showed me baby pictures and told embarrassing stories from Stiles' childhood. I liked rolling my eyes with him every time Stiles went on one of his health-kick rants over dinner.

I cared about him, as loath as I was to admit it, and the thought of him hating me hurt like a stake to the gut.

"Is she okay?"

I opened my eyes, peering through the fluorescent overhead lighting at Derek, who was standing before me with wide, panicked eyes. "Took you long enough," I murmured, glancing at the clock on the far wall and noting it had been a half hour since I'd left the voicemail. "I don't know anything specific, but so far so good."

He went to walk in, and I reached out to grasp his arm.

"Visiting hours are over," I told him flatly. He looked about ready to bite my hand off, when a grin appeared on my face, one of great contrast to how I felt at the moment. "Good thing you're in with the local vampire population," I winked, hoping that my usual standard of banter would help the sinking feeling in my chest. "Excuse me, miss?" I called out, and a passing nurse looked at me, making the usually fatal mistake of meeting my gaze. "Cora Hale's brother can stay with her as long as he likes."

"He can stay as long as he likes," she parroted lifelessly, and I blinked to break the hold, grinning at her widely.

I let go of Derek, then made a show of shooing him into the hospital room. "You're welcome," I told him with a smirk, and he merely nodded stoically before ducking into the room.

"Juliet!" Stiles' familiar voice called, making a passing orderly shush him sharply as he approached. "Jules," he repeated, more quietly this time. "We have to get to the school, now. Like _right now_."

I took his arm, looping mine through his and letting him lead me towards the elevators. "What's the big emergency?" I asked softly, pressing the button and waiting impatiently as the chords behind the doors whirred.

"The recital," he told me severely. "It's going to take another philosopher sacrifice. Tonight."

* * *

I was silent as I pushed my way into the room, thankful the doors didn't squeak as they moved. Stiles crept in beside me, and it only took a second to locate Scott, who was standing near the back, keen eyes watching everything in the room.

"Anything?" I asked him from the corner of my mouth, my own eyes sweeping the hall, looking for anything out of place.

"Nothing yet," he responded.

"Well, did Lydia find – or sense – anything?" Stiles asked just as quietly.

"Lydia?" Scott asked, glancing over his shoulder at an empty space by the wall. "Lydia?"

"Lydia?" Stiles hissed frantically. "Where the hell is she?" he asked me, eyes wide as he realised something must have been wrong.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? Lydia-GPS isn't one of my vampiric abilities, Stiles," I snarled back at him sharply, irritated by his tone.

"Her scent leads this way," Scott interjected before things could escalate, turning on his heel and darting from the room. "Lydia?!" he yelled once we were out of the hall and encased in the crisp night air.

"Lydia?!" Stiles echoed loudly, sweeping the shadows as best as his weak human eyes could. I stepped further into the quad, vision cutting through the darkness as I searched for any sign of the girl, Scott doing the same on my right. "Anything?" my boyfriend asked worriedly, tapping away at his phone.

"Negative," I responded absently, sniffing the air, looking for (but hoping I wouldn't find) the scent of freshly spilled blood.

"She's not answering texts," Stiles muttered, heart stuttering in his chest. "What do we do?"

Scott's heat raced as he began to panic. I felt my handle of the situation slipping through my fingers. We were wasting time by doing nothing, but what was there to do? What move could I possibly make to solve things?

I figured we had to do _something_.

"Scott, we should-" before I could get the words out, a piercing scream cut through the night air. My face scrunched as my hands flew up to cover my ears, as though that would help stop the pain. The sound tore through my skull, my ears ached and burned hot at the same time, and my legs felt like jello.

I forced my eyes open, glancing at Stiles, but thankfully the kid seemed unaffected by the screech, merely staring at Scott and I in frantic concern. The teen wolf had even less tolerance for the sound than I did, knees buckling as he collapsed to the cement, groaning in pain.

I'd heard Lydia scream before, but this one was different, it _hurt_.

Only one being had ever elicited that kind of reaction from me before, and I knew instantly that my suspicions about the redheaded high school girl were correct.

But I didn't have time to focus on that particular jar of worms.

As soon as the sound was over I was released from the pain. I glanced up, scanning the surrounding area. The scream seemed to come from every corner of the school at once, making it impossible to determine where it was originating from. All I knew was that it was close, _very_ close.

I spun around, grasping Scott by his arms and pulling him from the ground with ease. "You okay?" I asked him, watching as he blinked dazedly.

"What _was_ that?" he asked breathlessly.

"No time," I replied stoically. My head snapped up as a breeze filtered through the quad, carrying on it a painfully familiar scent. My eyes widened, a split second reaction escaping before I smothered it with my usual glare. "I know where they are," I said darkly, barely glancing over my shoulder at Stiles as I continued. "Don't follow us."

I dragged Scott along behind me, the boy gaining strength as he recovered from Lydia's excruciating shriek. "You know he's going to follow us, right?" the wolf said, speaking just under his breath as I led him through the halls of the school.

"Of course," I murmured back as I turned sharply into a classroom. I left Scott to fend off the Darach – who was apparently our English teacher, which was good to know, but would have been nicer to know sooner – my priority was the sheriff. "John," I breathed as I knelt down beside the man, hands held up uncertainly as I surveyed the heavily bleeding wound on his chest and the dagger sticking out of it haphazardly. "You'll be okay," I assured him, though he was hardly paying attention, too focused on the image of Scott behind me, completely changed into his wolf form.

I heard the sounds of he and the Darach fighting behind me, but I paid them no mind, all of my attention on John. Scott could look after himself.

"John, focus on me," I said, trying to shift his awareness away from the battle behind me to myself and my voice.

"Jules!" Stiles' voice shouted from the hallway where I could hear him pounding desperately at the blocked door, but I couldn't spare him a moment, too focused on saving his father's life. I pressed my palms to the area around the wound, trying to determine what exactly it had damaged.

Before I could finish my examination, John's hand snapped out, and I glanced over to see a gun held in his shaking fingers. I would have done something, but the man had a _gun_ aimed at the _Darach_, which was more than we'd accomplished all month, and I wasn't about to do a thing to stop him.

"There was a girl, years ago," John began, and my gaze slid to him in a glare.

"Shoot her," I growled even as I slid to my feet to glower at the Darach menacingly, fingers curled into makeshift claws and fangs fully descended.

"We found her in the woods," he continued, paying me no mind. "Her face and body slashed apart."

"John, _now_."

"That was you, wasn't it?"

The teacher smirked, though the expression was hollow. "Maybe I should have started with philosophers," she mused in a gentle tone that contradicted her very existence. "With knowledge and strategy."

"_John_!" I shouted forcefully, and finally the man pulled the trigger.

He may as well have shot a vampire for all the good it did. The wound healed instantly, and she merely gazed at him with a sneer. She paused, continuing to smirk down at the Sheriff, and I took the moment to attack. So a bullet wouldn't hurt her, but maybe I would be able to smash her skull in with my fist and have better luck.

She was strong, but she wasn't fast, not able to duck quickly enough as I sent my knuckles flying into her face. They landed on her cheekbone, but unfortunately, besides a grunt, she seemed unaffected. I briefly caught the scent of blood in the air, but I couldn't see any on her annoyingly pretty face.

My eyes widened, and I did it again, only for her to catch my fist, twisting my arm and shoving sending me across the room with all the ease of an Original. And that was just it, she was as strong as a motherfucking _Original_. Logically I knew it would have to be from all the sacrifices, obviously they were feeding her strength. I wasn't hurt, merely shocked as I stared up at her in surprise.

I took a second for myself, sucking in a cool breath of air before leaping to my feet and lunging for her. I wasn't, however, expecting a face full of vervain for my efforts.

I staggered back, gasping in shock and agony as my skin began to sizzle and burn. I couldn't help but yell out in pain, this time succumbing to the urge to collapse and falling painfully to my knees. I yelped, hands shooting up to cradle my searing face. I coughed as some of the powder got in my throat, and squeezed my eyes shut tightly as they stung like a bitch.

It took me a full minute to recover, the plant acting as a toxic poison, making it feel as if my face was literally melting off. I groaned in pain, feeling myself as I was curled up into a ball, recovering from the attack.

Slowly but surely, the effects wore off, and though my eyes still stung painfully, I was once again able to stumble to my feet, only to find that I was too late. Stiles and Scott were standing at a broken window, staring out into the night with terror splashed across their faces.

The Sheriff was gone.

**A/N: A few quick notes. One review said something about how Juliet is always losing fights, but that they knew this was because there would be no plot if she took everyone down easily. This person was absolutely right. I also wrote Jules as not a particularly strong or competent fighter. Deep down she's a pacifist that has a love of chaos (a bit contradictory, but them's the facts). **

**Also, In the coming few chapters, I may be moving to a Stiles POV. It would be in third person (because I'm not comfortable writing canon characters in first person), but how would you guys feel about that? Things are going to happen that's going to make it impossible to write in Juliet's POV, but I think you'll like what's coming. It's interesting, to say the least. Let me know what you guys think. I love you all!**


	45. White Blood

**A/N: I want to thank 'Hardlight' who read my whole story in a few days and reviewed every other chapter, giving me feedback on the whole thing. I enjoy reading your reviews, and I'm glad you like the story!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Said you'd always be my white blood_

_Circulate the right love_

_Giving me your white blood_

_I need you right here with me_

_Said you'd always be my white blood_

_Elevate my soul above_

_Giving me your white blood_

_I need you right here with me_

White Blood – Oh Wonder

* * *

"We have to be gentle," Scott was whispering as we climbed the stairs to the loft, Stiles looking over his shoulder every few seconds, paranoid we were being followed. His eyes were glassy and vacant; he didn't even have a sarcastic comment in response. "We can't be cruel when we tell him."

"You got it," I mumbled to him distractedly, not really taking in what he was saying. It was because of my inattentiveness that I shoved open the thick but practically weightless door to the loft and strode into the room, shouting, "hey, alpha-of-the-century! As always, your choice in lovers is top notch!"

"Excuse me?" Derek asked dangerously, looking up from the book he'd been immersed in and glaring at me through narrowed eyes.

"You're surprisingly good at discovering our enemies by dating them," I commented offhandedly, reaching into my pocket and pulling a cigarette out, popping it between my teeth and using my other hand to light it.

"What is she talking about?" he asked flatly, turning to Scott and Stiles for answers. His brow furrowed when he took in the shellshocked expression Stiles was wearing and the panicked and worried one of the teen wolf. "What's wrong?" he demanded stonily, staring at the pair apprehensively.

I opened my mouth to fill him in, but Scott shot me a severe look, clearly ordering me to stay silent. Though not usually one to follow orders, I did so out of respect for the boy I considered a somewhat of a leader. "It's Ms Blake – Jennifer," Scott began quietly. I sucked in a lungful of smoke, enjoying the way it singed my throat.

Derek's heart stuttered, but he covered the slip quickly, heartbeat steadying moments later and stern mask falling into place over his face. His steely expression didn't waver as Scott continued to talk, and his heartbeat didn't falter even once.

Not having a heartbeat myself, I couldn't fathom how difficult it must be to control something so internal.

Though, he didn't react so intensely, that by the time the words had stopped pouring from Scott's lips, he was merely staring at the other wolf blankly, an indescribable expression on his face.

I felt sympathy for the alpha, more than I usually did, showing me exactly how much I'd grown since I'd moved to this town. I felt a deep sadness for Stiles; the only person on earth who could evoke such strong emotions from me. He'd lost his dad, the most important person in his life; the only family he had left.

I swore to myself that I would do absolutely everything in my power to bring him back. And if I put my mind to it, the Darach didn't stand a fucking chance.

The sound of heels clicking on the concrete stairs echoed around the room, audible to all but Stiles, who was uncharacteristically silent. "Boys," I murmured softly, grasping them gently but firmly by the shoulders. Getting the hint, they allowed me to push them from where they stood, gently guiding them around the corner, out of sight.

Once the boys were hidden, I glanced back at Derek, silently offering my assistance with nothing but a glance. He shook his head immediately, eerily blank expression turned towards the doors, preparing for the confrontation.

"Derek?" the Darach's saccharine voice floated through the loft, and I pressed myself back against the wall, staying out of sight. "Derek, where are you?!" she continued, sounding desperate and innocent – though we knew she was anything but.

"I'm here," the alpha made his presence known, standing in the centre of the room with his arms folded behind his back.

"Oh, thank God," the Darach breathed in false relief, and I heard her heels click against the floor as she darted to her lover's side, throwing herself into his arms and clinging to him like she was seeking comfort and hadn't done anything wrong. "Something happened at the recital, at the school, and I need to tell you before you hear it – any of it – from them."

"Who?"

"Scott; Stiles; Juliet," she listed breathlessly, fully playing the part, only slightly impressing me with her dedication. "They're going to tell you things; things you can't believe." I snorted, but the sound was quiet enough that it went unheard. "You have to trust me, okay?"

"What is it?"

"Promise you'll listen to me?"

"Promise."

The sound of halfhearted kissing filled the loft, and I grimaced at the thought of kissing that bloody werewolf. Stiles sucked in a breath from beside me, the air shuddering from his lips. My hand moved of it's own accord, fingers curling around Stiles' shaking hand. As soon as our skin touched he gripped my hand like it was the only thing holding him to the earth. I clutched back, attention only half on what was happening in the middle of the loft, my mind much more focused on a barely coping Stiles.

"They're already here, aren't they?"

I knew my attention couldn't be divided any more, we couldn't afford it. I brought Stiles' hand up to my lips quickly, pressing my lips to the cold skin of his palm before letting go, my focus now solely on the evil druid in the room, knowing I might have to protect the boys at a moment's notice.

I stepped around the corner, arms crossed over my chest and my most lethal glare fixed onto my sharp features, a silent warning not to fuck with us.

"So they told you it was me?" she asked, glancing over her shoulders, cold eyes narrowing at me as she clearly saw the unspoken threat. "That I'm the one taking people?"

"That you're the one _killing_ people," Scott cut her off, a rare sneer on his boyish face.

"Oh, that's right," she said, voice layered with forced sarcasm. "Committing human sacrifices? Cutting their throats? I probably do it on my lunch hour, that way I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day," she laughed, but the sound was weak at best. "That makes perfect sense."

I didn't say anything, continuing to glare darkly. "Where's my dad?" Stiles spoke up, voice shaky as he tried not to let too much emotion show.

"How should _I_ know?" she asked, staring at him imploringly before turning back to her werewolf boyfriend. "Derek, tell me you don't believe this," she begged, and though I couldn't see her face, I knew it would look irritatingly innocent.

Derek's forest green eyes looked up at us, trailing over each of our faces, taking in Scott's serious frown, Stiles' teary eyes and my grievous glare. "Do you know what happened to Stiles' father?" he demanded tensely, and I was almost surprised he seemed to believe us. If it came down to Derek or Stiles for me, I would always, without a doubt, trust Stiles. I could only hope Derek wouldn't do the same.

"No," the teacher insisted beseechingly.

"Ask her why she almost killed Lydia," Scott added sombrely.

"Lydia Martin? I don't know anything about that!" she said, eyes darting around, clearly looking for an escape route. Her gaze zeroed in on me, and I internally sighed, knowing what was about to come. "Why don't you ask the murderous vampire who's had it in for Lydia Martin since day one?"

I didn't say anything, just rolling my eyes at her desperate attempt to get the focus off of herself. "Why am I always the scapegoat?" I asked myself more than anyone else, genuinely curious.

"What do you know?" Derek interrupted, expression severe.

"I know that these children, for whatever misguided reason, are filling your head with an absurd story." I wanted to snap that I was the furthest thing from a _child_, but figured it just wasn't the time to be petty. "And one they can't prove by the way," she continued, sending us a dark and almost smug look.

My lips twitched up into a smirk, and I dug my hand into the deep pocket of my leather jacket, fishing out a jar and holding it up in the light for show before throwing it to Scott, who plucked it from the air with ease. "What if we can?" he asked knowingly.

"...what is that?" she asked hesitantly, brow furrowing in worry.

"My boss told me it's a poison _and_ a cure," Scott told her, tone void of triumph as he gently unscrewed the lid, clutching it in his fist. "Which means you can use it, and it can be used against you."

The Darach froze, eyeing the group of us with contempt. "Mistletoe?" she growled, edging away from us, but Scott gave her no time to escape, angling the jar in her direction and allowing the powder inside to pour from it's glass container, spilling over the woman and exposing her true form.

It wasn't a pretty sight. Her skin was pale and waxy, deep slashes cutting across her face, and her eyes were a clouded blue and sunken into her skull. Her lips were non-existent, just a rim of scabbing, and she had a row of disgusting, blackened teeth hiding a cracked tongue.

Derek couldn't help the stutter his heart gave that time, he took a step back as the teacher appeared as herself once more, gasping for air as she recovered from the attack. I cocked my head, eyeing the glamour she was wearing with a critical eye.

She must have realised she was done for, and that if I wouldn't kill her then Derek most certainly would, so with a grunt she pushed herself forwards, trying to flee to safety.

Derek grabbed her around the throat with ease, yanking her back in front of him and glaring down at her in disgust and betrayal.

"Derek, wait! _Wait_!" she begged as the wolf's claws slid from his nails, digging into her soft (and false) skin. "You need me."

The alpha wasn't having any of it. "What are you?" he demanded furiously.

"The only person who can save your sister," she gasped out, clawing desperately at his wrist, trying to suck air into her lungs. Derek continued to glare at her, stuck between doubt and hope. "Call Peter!" she pleaded with him, and I wondered why she was letting him hold her. I'd experienced her strength firsthand earlier that night, I knew she was strong enough to land me on my ass in a matter of seconds if she had the element of surprise, yet she allowed Derek to catch her by the throat.

She had ulterior motives, but I didn't have the time nor the patience to worry about it. The priority was Stiles' father, and – though much less important to me – saving Cora.

"Juliet," Derek said darkly, never taking his eyes off the woman before him.

Taking the hint, I stepped forwards, moving to them and wrapping one hand around the Darach's arm and the other winding around her neck, prepared to snap it at a moment's notice. Once he was sure she was restrained, he pulled his cell from his pocket, bringing it up to his ear and calling his uncle.

"_Derek_," Peter answered the call, and I could hear the sounds of the storm raging in the background, adding to the sound of the rain beating against the loft's large windows.

"How's Cora?" was all the alpha said in response, cutting straight to the point.

"_It's not good, she's in and out of consciousness, she's vomiting up black blood along with one other alarming substance_."

"Mistletoe."

"_How did you know that_?" Peter questioned suspiciously.

Derek didn't reply, hanging up the call and slipping his phone back into his pocket. He moved back over to me, rudely knocking my hand out of the way and taking the Darach's neck in his own while I kept hold of her arm, just as extra insurance.

"Derek," Scott said warningly as the wolf's hand began to tighten, squeezing the woman's neck with only a fraction of his possible strength. "Derek! What are you doing?"

"Oh, lay off, teen wolf," I snarled unthinkingly, rolling my head round to peer at him with exasperated eyes. "He's not doing anything she doesn't deserve."

"Juliet," he responded reproachfully, sounding shocked at my tone. Realising how much bite had been in my voice, a hint of remorse filled me, and I winced. Instead of apologising as I should have, I merely turned back to the woman in my grasp, focusing my attention on holding her as she and Derek spoke.

"Her life; it's in my hands," the teacher was gasping desperately.

The alpha growled, lifting her off the ground by her throat, baring his teeth up at her. "Stop Derek, stop," Stiles begged, and instantly all the fight drained from me. This wasn't what Stiles wanted, and I wasn't about to do anything to harm him or his father. I let go, taking a step backwards to make sure I wouldn't accidentally do anything I couldn't take back.

"Stilinski, you'll never find him," she choked in Stiles' direction, and I grit my teeth, hands balling into angry fists.

"Derek," Scott growled, but the alpha didn't seem to hear. "Derek!"

Finally he let go of her throat, and she sank to the floor, wheezing in an attempt to get her breath back. For a long moment she seemed to shake, and I assumed she was in shock or upset, but then she lifted her head, and there was a large, triumphant smirk spread across her stolen face. "That's right, you_ need_ me," she grinned victoriously. "_All_ of you."

"Oh, just shut the fuck up," I rolled my eyes as I stepped forwards, using a good chunk of strength to send my boot into her side. She grunted in pain, flying back a few feet and landing hard on the ground. I crouched down beside her, scrunching her hair in my fist and yanking her head up to mine. "Where. Is. The sheriff?" I asked her slowly, making sure there was zero miscommunication.

"One thing at a time, Miss Adams," she sneered, the expression twisted and ugly on her face.

I tore at her hair again and she yelped, unable to stop the pained sound from escaping her lips. "How do you know that name?" I demanded, nails biting into the skin at my palm.

She smirked again, but before she could answer Derek was hauling her to her feet and shoving her in the direction of the door. "We don't have time for this," he barked, leaving the room. "We're going to the hospital to heal Cora, _then_ we'll deal with the rest."

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue, and to be honest, so did I. We both kept our mouths shut, however, when Scott sent us a pleading look. We may not have gone by Derek's orders, but one look from Scott was all it took for us to shut up and knuckle down.

I allowed Scott to sit in the front, instead sliding into the backseat, thankful for the room to breathe, allowing myself to calm down slightly.

"Something's wrong," I broke the tense silence, staring out into the stormy night, spotting a flicker of lightning in the distance. Stiles let out a shuttering breath, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

"I know," he replied, sniffling uncertainly as he sped up. We were the only cars on the road, the Jeep following close behind Derek's own sleek, modern car.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked worriedly, peering at me worriedly over his shoulder.

"Something just feels wrong about this. We proved it to Derek, but she still had this look, like it was all still going according to plan," Stiles explained in low tones. I shuffled forwards, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind and nuzzling my face into his neck, breathing in his scent to calm my own worries. "You saw it, didn't you?" he asked his best friend, one hand coming up to touch mine, squeezing extra tight, like I was keeping him afloat.

"It's more than that," I murmured into Stiles' skin, knowing the wolf could hear me just fine. "She didn't look concerned when I was attacking her. Like she knew I wouldn't hurt her."

"But you wouldn't have," Scott said surely, like he knew this above all else.

I didn't respond, because I wasn't sure he was even right. Would I have killed her? A year ago, the answer would have been yes. Had I really changed so much that I wouldn't do something as basic as ridding the world of an evil?

Scott was all black and white, while I lived my undead life in shades of grey.

So would I have killed her?

Probably.

Finally Stiles pulled up outside the hospital, parking haphazardly in a disability space. As I slipped from the car, I plucked the bat from the floor of the backseat, stepping out into the rain and handing it to Stiles.

"What's that?" Scott asked confusedly.

"What?" Stiles responded defensively. "You've got claws, she's got fangs and I've got a bat."

We caught up to Derek and the Darach as they strode through the halls, the alpha having a tight grip on the bitch's arm, yanking her after him, leaving no chance to escape. The hospital was crowded, people evacuating the building because of the severe storms. "You want to be useful for once, Juliet?" Derek asked flatly, and I shot him a bitter look as I passed, moving to the front of the group and getting to work shoving a path clear, allowing them to wander through with ease.

There was one small hiccup; Melissa caught us on the way to the elevator, having a hushed discussion with her son in the hall. We had to get Cora on one of the last ambulances out of this hell hole, with a maximum time limit of twenty minutes.

Harder things had been accomplished, I supposed.

I pressed the button for the floor Cora was on, stepping inside and backing up into the corner, crossing my arms and waiting on the others. They filed in one after the other, Stiles first, moving instantly to my side, then Scott and finally Derek, who was holding tightly to the teacher.

"You don't have to keep me on a leash, Derek. I'm going to help," Blake murmured, rolling her eyes exasperatedly at the group of us. We were silent, she glanced at Scott, who was glaring at her stonily; then at Stiles, who was staring at her warily, brandishing his (Melissa's) bat in his hands warningly; and finally me as I parted my lips, letting my fangs slide forwards and baring them at her, a threatening hiss escaping.

She rolled her eyes again, turning back to face the front. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we exited the metal box, stepping out onto the floor and striding instantly down the hallway. The lights flickered, which – if my past was anything to go by – was never a good sign.

I wasn't sure which room was Cora's, but when Derek stopped outside of a particular one, I figured he'd found it. A glance into the room confirmed it, as I saw a pool of black blood splattered on the linoleum floor. "Shit," I muttered, seeing no sign of the sick wolf anywhere in the room.

Before any of us could say anything, the doors at the end of the hall suddenly burst open, a beaten up Peter sliding across the floor, to land right at our feet. "We got a problem," he groaned up at Derek, who was staring down at his uncle in shock. "Big problem."

I followed his gaze, locking eyes with the fucking twins, who were currently joined as one, massive – or as Stiles put it, Voltron – wolf.

"Why can't anything ever be easy?" I murmured out of the corner of my mouth to my shaking boyfriend, who was gripping his stolen bat so tightly that his knuckles were white. From my right Derek shifted, eyes glowing red and claws at the ready. Before any of us could say a word he had taken off, running directly at the wolf and attempting to take it down in a rugby tackle.

The twins barely budged, merely pushed back a few feet, a minor inconvenience to them.

They took Derek down with a series of well-executed blows, and in a matter of seconds our alpha was sprawled across the floor, blinking dazedly up at the ceiling. I glanced to my left, where Scott was standing, now also shifted.

He took off at a run, and with a grunt I allowed my fangs to drop and my eyes to flood with blood. I followed the teen wolf into battle, albeit reluctantly. Scott propelled himself off the wall, dodging the wolves' attack and landing a punch of his own to their gut that went virtually unnoticed.

With a sigh I slid under their spread legs, bringing my knee up and ramming it into their junk. They let go of Scott with a muted groan, turning on me in an instant. I danced out of the way of another attack, flittering around them too fast to be seen. I was faster than them, yes, but this thing had the strength of two fully grown alpha wolves in one body – I didn't have a hope of beating them with strength alone. My punches barely even seemed to affect them, they swatted me away like I was no more than an irritating fly.

I paused, hoping to land another kick to the apex of their legs, but they caught me by the ankle, picking me up and for one blissful moment I felt completely weightless, until I was thrown sideways into the wall. I grunted in pain, feeling my skull crack open and the cement of the wall fracture at the rough contact.

Laying on the ground, I blinked open my eyes, seeing Stiles' familiar Chuck Taylor's as they ran past me, but I didn't have it in me to say anything, merely sliding my eyes shut and waiting for my healing abilities to kick in.

A moment later my broken skin warmed and tingled, and the ache slowly went away. Propping myself up, I shook my head, blinking as I tediously pulled myself to my feet. In the time I was down the alpha twins had disappeared, and so had the Darach.

I was hoping those two problems would just sort of cancel each other out.

Cora had been found laying at the end of the hall, and Peter threw her unconscious body over his shoulder, hightailing it out of there, lest the twins come looking for round two.

"Don't stop! Don't stop!" Derek shouted as we pushed our way through surgery theatres and waiting rooms, no real plan and no idea what we were actually doing. I realised too late that Stiles wasn't beside me, spinning back around to glare at him where he stood by the door.

"Stiles," I hissed from the opposite doorway, and the others stopped, turning back to where the boy stood, clearly planning a blitz attack.

The twins barrelled into the room, and Stiles swung the bat.

It was, of course, completely useless. The bat splintered into a thousand pieces, leaving Stiles holding onto nothing but a worthless stub of wood.

I held out my hand and Stiles scurried away, sprinting over to where we were standing and instantly seeking safety behind the line of supernaturals keen on protecting him. I followed after him, figuring that my best bet was to stay by my boyfriend's side and keep him out of trouble.

"Did you see that?" he asked with wide eyes, glancing over his shoulder in sheer disbelief.

"Next time, try aluminium," I murmured to him, grasping his arm and hurrying him along. I found a room with doors that could be easily barricaded, and gently shoved Stiles inside. "Here," I said to Peter, who darted inside the room and instantly put down a still-unconscious Cora.

"Where's the big guy?"

"He's close."

"What about Ms Blake?" Stiles glanced at Scott, who shook his head. "You mean she's _gone_?" he asked incredulously. "Scott, are you _kidding me_?!"

"Stiles," I hissed at the human gently, giving him a small, reprimanding shove. He turned to frown at me, heart hammering in his chest. I paid him no mind, head tilted as I listened to the faint sounds of the twins whispering to each other from a few hall away.

"But-" he tried to argue.

"Stiles, shut up!" Derek growled, and Stiles turned to the wolf furiously.

"You're telling me what to do now? When your psychotic, mass-murdering girlfriend – the second one you've dated, by the way – has got my dad somewhere, tied up and waiting to be ritually sacrificed?!" he seethed, staring up at Derek in rage.

"Do you _really_ want to talk about psychotic, mass-murdering girlfriends?" Derek hissed back, pointing his chin at me accusingly.

"You_ fucking_-" before he could finish what I was sure was to be a very colourful sentence, Scott interrupted.

"Stiles, the twins are close," the teen wolf murmured, glancing warily at the doors.

"And they want her, right? Which means now we don't have her either. So my dad _and_ Cora, are both dead!" He was loosing it, and I reached forwards to slip my hand into his, but he ripped away from me like I'd burned him.

I flinched back, crossing my arms and allowing a blank scowl to spread across my features, refusing to let any of these men see my weakness. "Is she really dying?" Scott asked Peter, who was tending to the fallen Cora.

"She's not getting any better," he told the younger wolf sombrely.

"There has to be something that we can do, we have to help her."

I glanced up, hearing the familiar clicking of heels on linoleum. "Someone's coming," I whispered to Derek, who turned to face the door like he was preparing to ride into battle.

"You can't," our (ex) teacher said as she appeared in the doorway, a frown on her face. "Only _I_ can. I can save her _and_ I can tell you where Sheriff Stilinski is," she declared, a smug look in her usually dead eyes. "There is a pack of alphas in this hospital who want me dead; so I'll help you, but only when I'm out of here and safe. _Only _then."

Before I'd even had a chance to ponder the offer, there was a loud crash as Derek charged, knocking over a metal table and lunging towards the woman. I reached out instinctively, grasping him by the collar, feeling it tear a little under the strain. Scott did the same, stopping him before he attacked her, knowing, just as I did, that it was the best bet to save Stiles' father.

"She was trying to get out!" Derek shouted, pointing at her accusingly.

"I was trying to keep from getting killed, you can't blame me for that!" she argued.

"If you wanna show that you're one of the good guys, then heal her," Stiles spoke up, gesturing to the unconscious Cora.

"Not until I'm safe," she shrugged carelessly.

"I'd like to volunteer a different method of persuasion, let's torture her," Peter spoke up, igniting a flame of interest in me. Everyone was silent. "I hate to point out the obvious, but we _do_ have someone on our side who's torture methods _are_ known to be _quite_ convincing," he said, and I lifted my head, a wide, proud smirk on my lips.

Was I actually being given permission to torture? Christmas had come early.

It'd been so long since I'd been drenched in blood, I couldn't wait.

"No," Stiles spoke up, but I didn't even bother to glance over at him, too focused on my new play thing.

"Could you?" Peter asked me, paying the human no mind either.

"Of course I could," I smirked, bringing my fists up to crack my knuckles preparedly. "I was trained by _the_ Original. I'll have her singing like a bird in but a minute."

"Jules, you can't-" Scott tried to say, only to be stopped by a voice over the speaker, making everybody freeze as we stared up at the roof like it held the answers.

"_Excuse me, could I have your attention? Mr Deucalion...e-excuse me, just Deucalion, requests you bring the woman calling herself Jennifer Blake to the ER reception. Do this, and everyone else can leave. You have ten minutes._"

All of us were silent, none more than Scott, who looked paralysed with shock. I felt a shiver of dread. Melissa was the last person I wanted caught up in this mess, and despite my best efforts, she was smack in the middle of it anyway.

"He's not gonna hurt her," Blake said like she was telling us this week's lottery numbers.

"Shut up," Derek barked.

"He won't," she insisted. "Scott, you know why. Tell them it's true."

"What does she mean?" the alpha asked dangerously, just daring Scott to betray him.

"You're not the only one he wants in his pack," she cut in, seeing the teen wolf wasn't going to speak up. "Deucalion doesn't just want an alpha pack, he wants perfection. That means adding the rarest of alphas to his ranks."

I knew she couldn't have been saying what I thought she was saying. They were _rare_, so rare that one couldn't possibly be in the same town as me, let alone be one of my closest friends.

"A true alpha," Peter murmured from beside Cora, and I grit my teeth, trying not to let the awe be seen in my expression as I stared at Scott in bewilderment.

Stiles' heart stuttered in fear, not knowing what was happening. "What's that?" he asked tightly.

"A kind that doesn't have to steal his power from another, one that can rise by the force of his own will," the oldest Hale said. "Our little Scott."

"It doesn't matter," the true alpha said dismissively. I couldn't stop my eyes from flickering down his form. If he _was_ a true alpha, his power was bigger than he knew. He turned back to the Darach, heart hammering in his chest. "We still need to get her out of here," he told the group, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he was eyeing the teacher with irritation.

I couldn't blame him, I myself was experiencing a feeling of intense contempt towards the bitch.

"Scott, your mom!" Stiles spoke up worriedly.

"My mom said there's one more ambulance coming in twenty minutes and I don't think we've been here that long, so if we can get down to the garage and get to the last ambulance, we can get out of here," the teen wolf told us, and I saw the beginnings of a plan start to come together.

"As great of a plan as that is, little wolf, you're forgetting one important detail," I said to Scott, arms crossed over my chest as I glanced at the doors, sweeping the shadows for any hint of our most immanent threat. "I have a feeling the twins aren't going to offer to escort us down to the basement; quite the opposite, in fact."

"I'll distract them," Scott volunteered instantly, and in the glow of the emergency lighting I could see beads of sweat trickling down his temples.

"You mean fight them," Derek corrected, voice predictably deadpan.

"Whatever I have to do."

"I'll help you."

"Um, sorry," - for the record, the Darach didn't sound sorry _at all_ \- "but I'm not going anywhere without you, Derek."

Derek looked like he wanted to strangle her, but I cut in before anyone did anything rash. "It's okay," I said, stepping forwards despite the small sound of protest my human boyfriend made. "He'll have me."

"Because you're the group's best fighter," Peter mumbled sarcastically. I shot him a deadly look, and he seemed to sober for a moment before turning back to Scott. "I guess I'm in too," he said, sounding very much like it was the last thing he thought he'd be offering when he woke up this morning. "But I'd prefer to be out there with an advantage."

"An advantage, like what?" Stiles, who had been uncharacteristically silent, asked. "You mean like a weapon?"

"Something better than a baseball bat."

* * *

"This is a bad idea," Stiles murmured breathlessly, glancing at Peter warily, who was holding a needle precariously over his own chest.

"It'll wear off," I lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"Not that," he hissed, though not unkindly. I could tell he was just anxious, and it made me want to build a blanket fort to hide him in while we ate his favourite food – curly fries – and watched his favourite movie – _Back to the Future_. But alas, we were in the middle of a hospital, our safe escape blocked by a pair of psychotic alpha twins and an evil Darach demanding every bit of our attention. "You shouldn't go out there," he continued, bringing me back to the moment.

"It isn't a full moon," I told him reassuringly, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, hoping to bring him some sort of comfort.

"I just-" he began, but cut himself off with a pained choking noise. I raised an eyebrow, slightly alarmed by his behaviour. He shuffled closer, leaning his head into mine, trying to pretend everyone else in the room couldn't hear what he was saying anyway. "I just lost my dad. I can't lose you too."

My hard exterior melted, and I stared back at him with knowing, sad eyes. I slipped even closer, so that our chests were pressed against each other, and I wound my arms around his neck, leaning up on my toes to whisper into his ear. "I'm doing this, so you can _find_ him." I pulled back, meeting his chocolate eyes, "don't worry about me, I can handle the twins, plus I'll have Creepy Uncle and Teen Wolf to cover me. I'll be back by your side before you even know I'm gone."

"Who're you calling creepy, you undead, gothic, cradle-robbing savage?" Peter called from across the room, only to hiss in pain a moment later when he finally jammed the needle into his own chest.

"Okay," Stiles said acceptingly, completely ignoring the oldest Hale and focusing his attention back on me. "But on one condition."

"Name it."

He brought his hand up, pushing back his sleeve and offering me his wrist. "Drink."

I hesitated. Blood sharing in this way was usually a private affair, not something I wanted any occupant of the room to ever witness.

"It'll make you stronger," he continued when he noticed my collected expression falter. He stared at me pleadingly, which was completely unfair, considering how he knew I loathed those damn puppy-dog eyes. "Please, Juliet."

I glared at him, but the look held no real anger or malice. I sighed, rolling my eyes but taking his hand in my own and tilting his wrist up to my face. As I met his eyes, my own filled with blood, but he didn't stare back in horror, instead a rare serious expression on his face as he watched me.

My fangs descended and with a huff I slid them into his inner wrist, my teeth slicing through the delicate skin like it was melted butter.

I drank deeply, feasting on the blood like I hadn't fed for weeks, a euphoric feeling filling me as the liquid trickled over my tongue.

"Ugh," Peter's familiar voice echoed through the now silent room as I drank. "_Must_ you do that here?"

Finally, once I knew I had taken more than enough, I pulled back, only to look up and hiss at Peter, bloody fangs and all.

"Well that's just rude," he snarked, then gasped as the drug hit his system. "Oh wow," he murmured, and even standing where I was, I could see his pupils were completely blown.

I turned to Stiles as I bit into my own wrist, offering it up to him quickly. "No," he shook his head, and I frowned confusedly. "It's dangerous here, I don't want to risk..." he trailed off, but I knew what he was trying to say.

I felt the bite mark I had made begin to close up, and I glanced up as Scott cleared his throat. "We have to do this _now_," he prompted us, and I pushed myself up quickly to press my lips to Stiles' cheek.

The kiss smeared blood onto his skin, and I brushed it away with my thumb, sending him one final grin that was filled with false confidence before turning to Scott and Peter, cracking my knuckles eagerly. "Been a while since I've had a fight to the death."

"It's not to the death," Scott muttered exasperatedly as we faced the double doors, sounding very much like he longed to roll his eyes.

I cracked my neck, rolling my shoulders in preparation. "We'll see."

The hall stank of wolf, and I glanced to the end of the long corridor to see the twins standing in the shadows. "Alright boys," Peter said restlessly, eyes glowing blue. "Let's rumble."

The fight went better than I thought it would. None of us died, which was always a plus. I did get a blow to the face that was particularly nasty, smashing my entire cheekbone. I grunted in pain, thrown back against the wall as I blinked – even that small action causing severe pain – trying to recover.

Luckily, we didn't have to beat them – we only had to distract them. As soon as I knew Stiles and the others were clear, my first priority was to get Scott out of there, and even though my entire face felt like it was on fire, I was able to sidestep another attack, grasping Scott by the arm and yanking him away from the twins.

"But-" he tried to argue, but I was having none of it.

"Run," I hissed at him, shoving him none-too-gently in the direction of the door, reaching down to scoop Peter up from where he was all but melted into a puddle on the floor, the severe adrenaline rush leaving him as quickly as it had come. "Dammit, you irritating son of a bitch," I growled in his ear as I tugged him to his feet.

The knowledge that I could leave him there to die hung tightly to the back of my mind, but I couldn't force myself to do it. I didn't want him to die. Did he deserve it? Probably. But I sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to pull the plug.

Which led to me throwing him over my shoulders with but a small huff of exertion, taking off down the hall after Scott before the combined twins knew where we'd gone.

"Jules," Scott hissed to get my attention as I continued to carry Peter down the hallway. I immediately slid into the supply room the teen was in, shoving the wolf off my shoulder once the door was shut and dropping him apathetically to the hard floor.

He'd woken up somewhat during the journey, staring up at me dazedly as he regained his ability to think clearly. "Whoa, what happened to your face?" he asked the moment he could find the words, staring at me like I was speaking Dutch.

"I got punched in the face by two alpha werewolves combined into one _giant alpha werewolf_," I spat at him, reaching up to prod at my cheek, wincing as it sent a sharp, intense pain through me.

If it looked as bad as it felt...

"Those twins are really starting to piss me off," Peter grunted, grasping the edge of a desk and using it to pull himself to his feet. I was glad he could walk again, because there was no way in hell I was carrying him to safety.

"How the hell are we supposed to get passed them?" Scott asked in a hushed whisper.

"Personally I think that if we just let them continue beating the living crap out of us, they'll tire and give up," Peter said offhandedly as he huffed, pissing me off considering he hadn't even fucking walked here.

Scott looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped before he did, focused on something behind me. Concerned, I glanced over my shoulder, trying to see what he was looking at before finally I caught notice of the laundry chute sitting on the far wall.

I turned to back Scott with surprised eyes. "Smarter than he looks, folks," I murmured with a halfhearted smirk (because it hurt to move my mouth), but he paid me no mind, slipping passed me and moving towards the chute.

"Ready?" he whispered, pulling open the metal barrier and indicating for me to go first.

"Why do I have to go first?" I asked, affronted.

"Because you're the least breakable," Scott responded like it was obvious.

I narrowed my eyes at my friend, gesturing pointedly to my broken cheek. "Do you _see _my face right now?" I asked sardonically.

"Would you just jump down the hole already?" Peter snapped from behind me, and I lifted my foot, tilting it to the side then stomping it onto the werewolf's foot, making him grunt in pain as I heard a toe or two break.

I hummed, pleased with the results before I moved forward, grabbing the top of the chute and lifting myself up. "Wait ten seconds, then follow me," I instructed them before nodding at Scott and letting myself drop.

It was like a water slide, except there was no water and my face was in agony and the possibility of death was waiting at the other end.

Thankfully the ride didn't end with death, but instead I found myself with a face full of dirty laundry, most of it smelling of vomit. With a scowl I grasped the edges of the clothes bin, pulling myself over it and onto the floor just as Peter dropped into the spot I'd just vacated, Scott following only seconds after, landing right on top of the older wolf.

"You couldn't have waited like, ten seconds?" Peter asked sourly, but Scott paid him no mind as his phone vibrated in his hand.

"Is that Stiles?" I asked instantly, reaching into the bin and grasping Scott's forearm, tugging him over the edge until his feet hit the concrete floor with a muted thump.

"They didn't get out, did they?" Peter questioned when he didn't answer.

"It's Derek," he finally told us. Peter held out a hand for my help out of the bin, but I pointedly ignored it, turning my back and focusing my attention onto Scott. "They're stuck."

"Tell him we're on our way," I said instantly, and he nodded his head, tapping away at his phone as he followed me through the halls.

"Children?" Peter said as he dropped unsteadily to the ground.

I rolled my eyes barely glancing over my shoulder. "I'm older than you, you self-righteous douche-bag," I murmured, but I frowned when there was no snarky reply. Suddenly there was a crack and Scott was doubling back, staring at Peter in alarm where he'd dropped to the ground, unconscious.

He hesitated only a moment before sighing, reaching down and heaving the dead-weight to his feet. "We need to get him to safety," the teen wolf told me quietly, wrapping an arm around the barely conscious werewolf to support him.

"Safety?" I repeated dubiously, raising incredulous eyebrows.

"Well, as close to it as we can get," he amended with a sigh. "Can you get the door?"

I rushed ahead of the pair, pushing open doors and shoving discarded stretchers out of the way to make room for them. "Where are we heading?" I asked in a hushed tone, ears tuned to every little sound I heard, listening for any sign of approaching danger.

"Basement."

"Surely the last ambulance is gone by now," I said, or at least I _hoped,_ becauseif it was then that meant Stiles was safe, but with our luck, I wouldn't have put money on it.

"It's our best chance."

I didn't have a feeling the night was so much as half over. In fact, we'd probably only just begun.

**A/N: Merry Christmas you guys! There's no greater gift for me than just getting the chance to chat with you guys about anything and everything, so don't be afraid to send me a message. I hope you all had the brilliant holidays you deserve! I love you!**


	46. Song Of Sorrow

_Weak and wide eyed my pride is swallowed_

_I'm beggin' for my hearts last beat_

_And I'm repaying all the time I've borrowed _

_So forever the sorrow song I sing_

_Scriptures singin' man I can't seem to find my way back home_

_It's been a hundred years I've no idea which direction to go_

_This is my song of sorrow_

Song of Sorrow – Elle King

* * *

"Stiles, open the door."

My boyfriend jumped a foot in the air, gasping as he held a hand to his chest. I sent him a flat but hopefully reassuring smile over Scott's shoulder, absentmindedly twirling the metal pole – I'd ripped it off of a gurney on the way down to the basement – around in my hand. Hopefully it would prove to be a useful weapon.

I glanced over my shoulder when I heard a sound behind me, but quickly realised it was just a stray cat, seeking shelter from the storm.

"Where's Derek and Jennifer?" Stiles questioned the moment Peter was inside the ambulance, sitting down and resting his head against the side.

"I have to go back for them, and my mom," Scott responded tiredly.

"Okay, two problems: Kali's got the keys to this thing and I just saw the twins like thirty seconds ago."

I tilted my head back, sniffing quietly and grimacing at the stench of wet and bloody dog. I also picked up the alluring scent of human blood, and I glanced over Stiles worriedly, checking for wounds. When I saw it wasn't his, I glanced to the left, spotting a dead man laying in a pool of his own blood.

"Stay here," Scott instructed Stiles, turning to leave. Without a second thought I followed him, turning around and heading in the direction he was leaving in.

"Wait! Jules! Where are you going?" Stiles protested, concern in his voice. Scott paused briefly.

"With Scott," I said obviously, hooking my new weapon over my shoulder and cocking my head at him impatiently.

"But – what if they come back?" he asked, tone hushed but distressed.

"Peter's not completely useless," I told him reassuringly.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Peter muttered from inside the ambulance, but none of us paid him any attention.

"You'll be okay," I continued like he hadn't spoken, stepping closer to Stiles and pressing my free hand to his cheek.

"Jules, we _have_ to _go_," Scott prompted, glancing over his shoulder anxiously.

"I'll see you soon," I told Stiles, darting forwards to brush my lips over his chastely before pulling back and grinning at him as best as I could with my shattered cheek. "Be smart, stay safe."

"You too," he told me with a nervous swallow before I turned and followed after Scott, slipping out of the chilly basement and wandering through the halls.

We were silent as we made our way up a floor, my hand clenching my weapon so tightly I was worried I'd leave indents in the metal. "So do you have a plan or...?" I asked the wolf quietly, footsteps silent on the linoleum floor.

"This _is_ the plan," he murmured back, gesturing to what we were doing; roaming the halls with no real purpose.

I nodded, clicking my tongue idly as my eyes scanned the shadows for any hint of a threat. "I don't like this plan," I commented, and he sighed tiredly. "Whelp, you're the boss," I muttered, sounding sarcastic but really being completely serious.

Before he could say anything back, there was a loud clanging sound from the somewhere down the hall, and we both froze, instantly on high alert. Suddenly my sensitive ears picked up on the sound of muted footfalls on the hard ground. I groaned, not bothering to keep quiet.

"We have incoming," I uttered to Scott, who glanced up in alarm. I faced the door, holding out my new toy like a bat, preparing to swing. Scott gasped when the combined twins flew out from the doorway, right into the other end of my steel rod. I heard a crack, so I did _some_ damage, and the pole must have been strong, because there was naught but a small dent in the metal.

I hummed appreciatively as I glanced down at the makeshift weapon, but a moment later the twins recovered and swung at me again.

"Shit," I cussed, ducking the hit only for them to immediately turn on Scott, grasping him by the lapels and throwing him roughly into the wall. The teen wolf groaned in pain, head slamming against the tiles on the surface.

"Where is she?!" the twins roared in Scott's face furiously.

"Pick on someone your own size," I shouted at them ironically (considering about three of me could fit into their combined body) dropping my rod and tackling them from the side. They didn't knock over like I'd hoped, but they did let go of Scott, who dropped to the floor, sucking in air like a man who was drowning.

They threw me off with a well aimed kick and I yelped as I slid across the floor, glancing back up to see Scott once again in their creepy, combined hands. "We're trying not to hurt you!" they insisted loudly, like they were doing us some kind of fucking favour.

"Try harder," Scott chocked, their fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing it like it was nothing.

"Fucking assholes," I hissed, moving too fast for them to see as I leapt onto their back, letting my fangs slip free and sinking the incredibly sharp teeth into their neck. Their blood wasn't that appetising, I could drink it if I had to, but the last thing I wanted was any part of their being inside of me, so I pulled back and roughly spat out the mouthful of blood. It had worked, at least, as they dropped my friend, sending him to the ground, sucking in air.

"Hey!" I'd been so distracted by my task that I hadn't noticed someone coming up behind us. I let go of the beast, slipping down to Scott's level and laying a hand on his shoulder, making sure he was okay as his mother shouted at the twins. "I'd like to try something!"

Before I could process what was happening there was the familiar buzz of live electricity, and I saw the painfully bright blue lights as she electrocuted the twins, sending them flying back onto the ground.

Melissa was the most badass human I'd ever met.

"Sweetheart, get up," she instructed Scott, who instantly took her outstretched hand. "Come on Jules," she continued, reaching out for me once her son was standing, "you too." I grabbed her hand, and if she noticed how cold it was, she said nothing. With no more than an offhanded glance at the unconscious twins, she took off in a run, heading down the hall and to the left.

I wasn't sure where we were heading, but I trusted the woman implicitly. And there weren't many people on this earth that I could say _that_ about.

"What happened, mom?" Scott asked once he felt we were far enough away. "How'd you escape?"

"He just let me go; said it was a gesture of good will," she told us as I pushed open a set of double doors, allowing them through while I scanned the shadows for any sign of trouble. "No other reason."

"He had to have a reason, I don't think he does anything without a reason," Scott argued gently, breathing heavily as he fingered his neck, running over the slowly healing bruises left there by the twins.

"Well if that means I should continue to be profoundly terrified then don't worry about that, I've got it covered."

I nearly chuckled, but decided it wasn't the right time.

We froze as we heard sounds coming from the other end of the hall. "Stay with her," Scott all but mouthed to me, and I nodded, one arm curling around Melissa's shoulders, preparing to shield her from an attack.

I relaxed after a beat, catching the familiar scents of Isaac and Allison, but Scott still jumped violently when they met where the halls intersected. "What're you doing here?" he asked, sounding like he wanted to be irritated.

"Where else would we be?" Allison challenged, and even he had to admit that she had a point.

"What's happening?" Chris Argent asked tightly, glancing over at Melissa and me with calculating eyes. I sent him a sarcastic smile, keeping my protective arm around the woman beside me.

"Stiles, Peter and Cora are in an ambulance in the basement, but they're stuck there until we can either get the keys off Kali or get them out some other way," Scott told him, glancing over his shoulder warily as the wind made the windows creak.

"And the Darach and Derek are stuck in an elevator on the third floor," I added quickly, hoping we could move things along.

"Wait–what?" Chris snapped.

"The Darach is our English teacher, Ms Blake," Scott explained hurriedly. Allison and Isaac's eyes widened but they didn't have long to process the news.

"She was an emissary to the alphas and we think they tried to kill her and now she's enacting her revenge," I explained hastily. They still seemed completely bemused. "Okay," I began irritably. "How about we save explanations for the end, and for now we focus on one thing at a time, like getting Derek and Jennifer the hell out of that elevator."

There was a pause and nobody said anything, but I could tell we were in tentative agreement. There was a crash from down the hall, and Melissa jumped, clearly still terrified.

"Let's keep moving," Chris suggested, turning around and leading the way down a hall. "So why're they in the elevator?"

"The alphas have it surrounded, and there's no way they can get out without attracting their attention. For the moment they're safer there than anywhere else," Scott told him as we moved down the hall, pushing our way into an operating room.

"So then, they're essentially trapped?"

"But there's no way of getting them out without turning the power back on," Isaac threw in. I held back any sarcastic comments I longed to make, knowing they wouldn't be well received.

"But wait, if the power's back on then they're gonna hear the elevator moving, right?" Melissa brought up a good point.

"And they'll be on Jennifer and Derek as soon as it stops," said Scott.

"Which we _can't_ let happen," I added, and the Argent looked surprised by my concern.

"We can't get into a fight with them," he continued quickly, snatching their attention back.

"But you've got us now," Chris said, and I rolled my eyes exasperatedly.

"It's too much to risk. They want her dead, and if she dies then there's nothing we can do for Stiles' dad or Cora."

"I don't think I know which teacher this is."

"She's the one with the brown hair; she's kinda hot." We all paused, every one of us turning to look at Isaac incredulously. The kid clicked his tongue awkwardly, averting his eyes uncomfortably. "It's just an observation..."

We were silent, each going back to our thoughts. I continued to eye Isaac, and the kid winced, shrugging helplessly.

"What?" he hissed defensively, and I narrowed my eyes at him in annoyance.

Allison shifted, and my attention drifted to her. "I've got an idea."

* * *

"Stiles," I hissed, softly knocking on the ambulance doors. Despite how gentle I was, he still gasped, clutching at his heart like it was going to leap from his chest. Instantly he darted to the doors, undoing the lock and pushing them open. I slipped inside, kneeling down on the floor of the vehicle and grasping Stiles' knees. "Are you all okay?" I asked, though I looked only at my human as I spoke.

"We're fine," he assured me. "What's going on?"

"In a few moments, Isaac is going to drive through those doors," I told him softly, so nobody that wasn't on our side could hear the plan. "When he does we need to get Cora into the car, along with the rest of you, and then you get the hell out of here."

"Isaac? Car? _What_?"

"Trust me," I insisted, and instantly all the fight left him.

He nodded, and we fell silent. There was a long pause, mostly I just listened to the sounds happening around us, watching for any hint of a threat. "What happened to your face?" Stiles finally asked, probably unable to handle the silence.

"Shattered cheekbone," I informed him distractedly. He brought his hand up to brush his fingers along the bruising, and I flinched back slightly as he touched me, hissing in pain. "It's okay," I assured him when I noticed his worried expression. "I'm full of your blood, so it's healing quickly."

"Not quickly enough," he murmured, but before I could ask what he meant, the sound of a speeding engine met my ears and I reared back, turning to the doors.

"Ready?" I asked him, and he swallowed thickly, nodding his head. I threw open the doors, leaping out and onto the cement, reaching back in to assist Peter in pulling his niece out from the back of the ambulance.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Isaac shouted, and I shot him an irritated look as I cracked open the back of the car, allowing Peter to slip the unconscious teen into the backseat. "Stiles!" he prompted, and I spun around, alarmed when I realised Stiles wasn't getting into the car.

"Stiles?!" I called, growing nervous as he continued to stare.

Without warning, Stiles suddenly took off in the opposite direction, sprinting as fast as he could back into the depths of the hospital.

"For fuck sake," I hissed angrily, slamming my door shut and turning to Isaac. "Go," I insisted sharply. "Get them to safety."

"But-"

"_Now_, Isaac!"

I turned, pushing my legs as fast as they could go, I caught up to Stiles in no time, just as he was approaching an elevator. My eyebrows rose in surprise when I noticed Derek laying unconscious on the floor of the box, but Stiles merely glanced at the fallen wolf before he kept running.

"Stiles!" I snapped, keeping up with him with ease, jogging as I stayed beside him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Guardians!" he shouted, eyes teary as he continued to sprint.

"What?"

"Guardians! As in: parents!"

I considered myself fluent in Stiles-speak, and I understood in an instant what he was trying to say. "Melissa," I breathed in fear, eyes widening as I vaguely heard Scott shout for his mother from a few floors above us.

"Go!" Stiles instructed me tightly, shoving me forwards. "Get to Scott!"

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving you alone," I snapped back, even as worry and fear gripped my chest. I didn't want anything to happen to any of my friend's parents, least of all Melissa or John. He seemed annoyed by my choice, but I refused to budge. He wasn't leaving my sight.

A chilling voice met my ears from the floor above us, and I gasped. "What?" Stiles panted, voice layered with terror.

"Deucalion," I murmured, speeding up slightly.

"What's he saying?!" he demanded desperately.

"No time!" I growled. "Faster, Stiles!"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I shoved my way out into the night and onto the roof. I slid to a stop on the gravel, staring across at Scott and Deucalion with worry and loathing respectively.

"Scott, don't do this, don't go with him," Stiles pleaded the second he realised what was happening.

"I don't know what else to do," the teen wolf responded helplessly.

My chest felt tight and my eyes stung, but I refused to admit the strong emotions coursing through me. "Please, little wolf," I murmured desperately, taking a step forwards as though that would help. "Come along."

"Scott, there's gotta be something else," Stiles tried again when the wolf didn't move. "We always-we always have a plan B."

"Not this time."

Scott turned back to Deucalion, and fear gripped me. "Scott!" Stiles begged.

"I'm gonna find your dad," the wolf assured his best friend. "I promise."

As the rain began to fall, Scott turned and followed Deucalion into the dark, my eyes only able to follow for so long before I lost them in the fog.

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, and with a glance I saw that he had begun to shake violently. "Stiles," I said gently, hands held out as though it would somehow help. "It's okay," I told him, mostly lying.

"Nothing about this situation is _okay_!" he shouted, eyes wide and panicked.

Stepping forwards, to grasped his shoulders, turning him to face me and meeting his frenzied gaze. "Stiles, we don't have time for a panic attack," I told him simply.

"What are we meant to do?" he asked helplessly, chest still heaving as he struggled to breathe properly.

"We can start by rousing Derek," I said, tone leaving no room for argument, not wanting to give him the stress of decision making.

He nodded, the action frantic and hurried. "Yeah," he murmured, shaking his head as though to clear it.

"Come on," I prompted him, pressing against his back to urge him forwards. Without a word from me, he began running, sprinting towards the elevators, desperate to do _something_. I kept up with him easily, watching with a frown as he all but collapsed at an unconscious Derek's side.

I was about to tell him to lightly slap the wolf's face, but suddenly Stiles' palm was reeling back only to slam into Derek's cheek. The werewolf didn't stir. I glanced up at Stiles in surprise and glee, incredibly impressed by his methods. "Derek!" the human shouted at the wolf's closed eyes. "_Derek!_"

He slapped the wolf again, and I would have laughed had the situation not been so dire. I was about to tell Stiles that I would do it, when the kid changed tactics, balling up his hand and letting to fly towards the slumbering wolf's face.

Derek's eyes snapped open as he caught the younger human's fist before it could collide with his cheek.

"Ah," I hummed, leaning back against the wall of the elevator and crossing my arms over my chest. "Welcome back to the land of the living," I told him offhandedly, and in a very Derek-like move, he ignored me.

"Where is she?" he asked once he'd assessed his surroundings, eyes rolling around in their sockets.

"Jennifer?" Stiles asked, though he already knew. "Gone, with Scott's mom."

"She took her?"

"And if that's not enough of a kick to the balls, Scott left with Deucalion. Okay, so we need to get you out of here, the police are coming right now, and we need to get you out of here," he was talking in circles, but I couldn't blame him after the night he'd had.

I moved forwards, gently nudging a hyperventilating Stiles out of the way and offering my hand down to Derek, who took it without thought, allowing me to tug him into a sitting position. "What about Cora?" he asked the moment he was upright, eyes wide with concern.

"She got away with Peter and Isaac," I told him as I pulled him all the way to his feet. He staggered, unbalanced and probably ill from however he'd been incapacitated, but flinched away from my offer of further help. I snapped my head to the side as I caught the sound of sirens in the distance. "You need to go," I said seriously. "Now."

"Here," Stiles added, digging in his pocket until he pulled out a familiar set of keys. "Take the Jeep."

"What're you two going to do?"

"We're going to hold off the cops," he told the wolf, roughly pushing up the sleeves of his flannel and running a finger along his jaw.

Derek looked like he wanted to argue, but at the last second changed his mind, shaking his head and turning to leave. I waited until the sound of his footsteps had disappeared before I rounded on Stiles. "You ready for this?" he asked me, glancing at the doorway with trepidation.

"Ready to compel dozens of officers into submission?" I smirked, though it fell flat. "Walk in the park."

We stayed were we were, acting surprised and relieved when the police showed up. Stiles spun some brilliant bullshit story about us being stuck in the elevator the entire time. They didn't seem completely convinced, but one glance into my eyes had them persuaded.

I wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay.

As I watched Stiles stare hollowly at the far wall, that was all I could think. But could I say it? Hadn't I promised myself before that I wouldn't ever lie to him again? What did it say about me if I went back on that word, if only to offer him comfort?

I reached out, picking up his hand and absentmindedly toying with his fingers. I ran my nail up and down his knuckles, before gently rubbing his palm. He sighed, finally stopping with the broody staring and glancing over at me. I attempted to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

He opened his mouth to speak, and I watched him closely, only for him to stop himself from speaking in favour of staring irritatedly down the hall.

Confused, I glanced over my shoulder, my own eyes sweeping the gathered officers, searching for whoever was aggravating my human. "Shit," the kid swore. "Just perfect." His hand stilled my soothing motions, instead curling around mine and holding tightly, seeking a different kind of comfort, more of a support.

"Who is that?" I asked with a frown, not having to glance back to know a man was approaching us.

"A jackass," was the only response I got before a new voice spoke up.

"A Stilinski at the centre of this whole mess, what a shocker," the man said sardonically, eyes slipping from my boyfriend to me. He eyed me like I was something unworthy of even taking up space. "Who might you be?" he asked, tone making it clear that he didn't actually care.

"Your worst nightmare, if you talk to my boyfriend like that again," I responded blithely, and his lips twitched up into something that wasn't _quite _snide amusement. "But you can call me Juliet."

"Did you not notice the badge?" he asked sourly, gesturing to the FBI badge hanging around his neck. I glanced at it, having to make a double take when I noticed the name.

Instantly my cold mask replaced the surprise, and I looked back up at him indifferently. "No, I noticed it," I said flatly. "You're Scott's deadbeat dad." I paused, and the agent seemed to bristle. "Yeah, I've heard _all_ about you."

I hadn't, but it wasn't a hard deduction to make.

I could hear him grind his teeth, and had to smother a smirk. "Your girlfriend's a real charmer," he said to Stiles tightly.

"You have no idea," he replied ambiguously, staring up at the agent with irritation.

The man licked his lips, seeming to stop himself from saying something unprofessional. "Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?" he asked Stiles with narrowed eyes.

"If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid," my human responded in kind, and this time I didn't bother hiding my smirk, tightening my grip on Stiles' hand, interweaving our fingers happily as I glared up at the man.

Agent McCall smiled tightly, looking like he was envisioning Stiles in handcuffs, and not in the sexy way I usually was. "Where's your dad and why has nobody been able to contact him?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen him in hours," Stiles lied fluently, his only tell being a slight wince in his chocolate eyes.

"Is he drinking again?"

The sheer audacity of the man had me flinching in an attempt to stop myself from snarling at him. Stiles' grip on my hand tightened. "What do you mean 'again'? He never had to stop," he responded calmly, much better at controlling his temper than me.

"He did have to slow down; is he drinking like he used to?"

"How about this, next time I'll give him a field-sobriety test. We'll do the alphabet: start with F, end with U."

I chortled unapologetically, but Agent McCall didn't look impressed.

"How about you just tell me what the hell happened here," he said, clearly it wasn't a suggestion.

Stiles sighed tiredly. "We don't know what happened here; we were stuck in the elevators the whole time."

The man stared at us for a few long, long moments, before he finally said, "you're not the ones who put the name on the doors, are you?"

Stiles glanced up abruptly, genuine surprise flickering across his features. "What name?"

McCall looked like he didn't want to tell us, but ultimately decided to do it any way. "Argent," he told us reluctantly, watching our faces closely. It was easy to stop myself from reacting, and I squeezed Stiles' hand to remind him to do the same. "Does that mean anything to either of you?" he asked carefully.

"Nothing," I lied smoothly, then made a show out of checking the time on my phone. "Can we leave yet?" I asked stonily, glancing back up at him with barely concealed contempt.

"Somewhere you need to be?" he questioned.

"Yeah, home," I lied again, feeling not even a shred of guilt for doing so. "Need to check the damage to my house after the storm." I paused, cocking my head at him innocently. "Is that a problem, _Agent_?"

He hesitated, glanced down at his wrist then huffed. "Stay contactable incase I need to get ahold of either of you," he ordered us, and without even a curtesy nod, he turned and headed deeper into the hospital.

"What a jackass," I murmured to Stiles as we stood, immediately heading for the exit, though not so fast as to attract suspicion.

"You're telling me," he mumbled back as we ducked around some officers standing in the doorway. "We need to find Allison and her dad. _Now_."

* * *

"What's wrong?" Allison asked in lieu of a traditional greeting. I glanced past her, meeting Chris Argent's stormy blue eyes.

"Inside," Stiles shook his head, urging her and her father into the apartment building. "We were at the hospital," he began once we were away from prying ears, all piled into the small metal box. "And your name was written on the elevator doors."

"_My_ name?" the dark haired beauty asked in alarm.

"Well, _Argent,_" I corrected as we stepped out onto what I assumed was their floor. "In light of recent events, we assume this is a warning for you, Chris."

The oldest Argent rolled his eyes like what I'd said was ridiculous. "No, listen to them, dad. They're right. She's taking guardians."

"The word is _Guardian_, Allison," the man responded tiredly, sliding his keys into the lock and pushing open the door. "More than anyone you know that's a role I haven't exactly lived up to lately."

"But she took Scott's mother _and_ Stiles' father, that's not a coincidence."

"Yeah, and also consider the fact that someone put your name in large block letters on the elevator doors, that kinda felt like a warning to me," Stiles added, then paused in surprised when he realised I wasn't beside him. "Jules?"

"Yeah, give me a hand here, Chris?" I asked from the doorway, pressing my palms against the invisible barrier stopping me from entering.

The hunter hesitated, though I couldn't say I blamed him. After a beat Allison shot him a pointed glare and he instantly mumbled, "come in, Juliet."

I didn't bother to say thank you, holding my head high as I slipped into the apartment, letting the door swing shut behind me and following them into what seemed to be a study, chairs positioned around an old antique desk.

"I think it might be Morrell. She knows a lot more than she lets on and she might even be trying to help us," Allison continued the conversation where we'd left off.

"And hasn't she been a fuck-load of help so far?" I responded sardonically, and she rolled her eyes, seeing my point.

"The lunar eclipse is _two_ freaking nights away," Stiles reminded the group, taking a seat in a chair to the left, running a hand through his hair.

"Stiles," Chris began. "Don't give up hope."

"They could already be dead."

"I don't think so. There's something about Jennifer's tactics; it's like she's still positioning, still moving pieces into place."

Allison frowned, "and _you're_ one of them."

Chris paused, eyeing his daughter carefully before a hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "Then let's not wait around to see her next move." He opened a folded map, laying it out flat on his desk. "Everything she's done has been on the Telluric current, so Melissa and the Sheriff have to be somewhere along those currents, right?"

"Stiles, if we're going to find them, we need your help." He hesitated, eyes sliding over my boyfriend to me, where they narrowed unhappily. "And, as loathe as I am to say it, yours too, Juliet."

Before I could respond, Stiles spoke up. "You seriously want to go after her?" he asked incredulously. "What if she just takes you like the others? No offence, but what's the difference between you and them?"

"I'm carrying a forty-five." His words were punctuated with a click as a magazine slid into place in the gun he was holding. "Maybe she could heal from a shot to the leg and a few slashes to the face, but personally I'd like to see how she holds up with half her skull blown off." I smirked, burying the urge to clap for him, he sure was good at a motivational speech. "We've got one priority right now and that is to find Melissa and your dad. We've got a map and every clue we need to figure this out, what we don't have is time, which is why I need you _all three_ of you."

If you'd told me this time last week that I'd be joining forces with _hunters_, I probably would have laughed. Now, I knew we didn't have a choice. I couldn't get John and Melissa back by myself, and this tool was our best bet, as much as I hated to admit it.

Stiles glanced up at me, and though my eyes were tight, I nodded gently. He turned back to Chris, "where do we start?"

* * *

I hadn't wanted to leave Stiles, but Chris was right, I was more use with them than with Stiles. If I was with him I'd be too focused on keeping him safe, rather than doing what I was meant to.

"It's empty," Allison said as we stepped into the vault. It smelt heavily of dust and dried blood. Not exactly my favourite combination. I walked deeper into the room, away from the others and into the darkness, searching for any hint, any sign that they had been here.

"Be careful anyway," Chris warned, weapon in his hand crackling with blue electricity.

Instantly warning bells rang in my mind, but thankfully someone else realised what was out of place. "I thought you only use those on werewolves?" Isaac spoke up.

"I do."

I turned around just as Isaac was taken down, but before I could even take a step there was a loud bang accompanied by a searing pain in my gut. "Motherfucker," I snarled, glaring at Chris, aching with betrayal. Allison gasped in alarm as I teetered, struggling to stay upright as I felt the wooden bullet scrape against my insides.

There was another bang, and agony prickled at my leg, making my knee collapse. I took a deep breath, prepared to push past the pain and attack. "Dad! What the _hell_ are you _doing?_" Allison yelled furiously, just before two more bangs echoed through the vault and two more blasts of pain tore through my gut.

I fell back, head cracking against the hard, stone floor. I grunted, an ache shooting through my skull. Everything went white for a long moment, my hearing rendered useless by a piercing ringing in my ears.

Finally, after what felt like at least an hour, the sound went away, allowing me to hear a voice calling my name. "Jules! Juliet!_ Jules_!"

Realising my eyes had shut, I forced them open, staring up at Allison, who was hovered over me, staring down at me with concern. "Ugh, _fuck,_ I hate your dad," I breathed, groaning as the intake of air burned my lungs.

Allison laughed, the sound slightly relieved. "Wooden bullets, right?" she asked, though I was sure she already knew. She moved without me having to prompt her, reaching into my wounds and beginning to fish out the little wooden tokens.

"What happened?" I questioned sluggishly, wincing as her nails grazed my kidney.

"Chris gave himself up," Isaac spoke up from where he sat on my other side, having gone unnoticed. "Jennifer knew we'd be here. She came for him as soon as he attacked."

"And he just _went_ with her?" I asked incredulously, groaning as Allison yanked a second bullet out of my gut. "That son of a _bitch,_" I murmured, waiting impatiently until she finally tore the third bullet from my abdomen. I grunted, feeling cold blood trickle down my side, my clothes no doubt stained.

Isaac grasped my shoulder, pulling me up into a sitting position. I nodded at him in absent thanks, leaning over myself to dig the fourth and final bullet from my flesh, this one in my shin. It was embedded in bone, and hurt like a bitch, but the second it was out I was able to stand.

"Don't suppose you'd be willing to help a girl out and tap a vein?" I asked Allison weakly, but the hunter didn't find my joke funny, merely sending me a displeased expression before turning and heading for the door of the vault.

As we headed out into the main room of the abandoned bank, I could see the sun shining through the smashed windows. "Anyone planning on going to school?" Isaac asked us, glancing from the sunshine to us curiously.

"Definitely not," I responded, glancing down at my bloodstained clothes.

"Yeah, I'd say a shower should be at the top of your to-do list," he murmured, and I hummed in agreement.

Allison turned to me, eyes glassy as she still reeled from her father's sacrifice. "Need a ride home?" she asked, voice hollow.

"I'd say no, but I'd really rather not walk," I admitted, and she nodded, turning to leave, broken glass crunching under her boots. Isaac followed her, both heading back out to where we'd come from. Before moving, I glanced back at the vault, eyeing it warily.

I could only hope I never had to come back.

* * *

**A/N: Hello you wonderful people, I hope you liked this chapter. I'm working on chapter 50 at the moment, and I cried while writing it, so begin preparing yourselves, it's gonna knock you on your ass.**

**In other news, I'm working on a Harry Potter story. How many of you would be interested in a Fred Weasley/OC? It would be book-compliant and cover all their years at Hogwarts and the war and all the years after (safe to say it will be LONG). I wouldn't start posting it until I had most of it written, so it won't be up for months yet, but if I know you guys are into the idea, it'll motivate me to work on it. Don't worry, I Know Places will NOT suffer from it, I'm still very much passionate about this story!**

**Let me know your thoughts on the chapter and my future story idea! I love you all :)**


	47. The Only One

**A/N: This is honestly one of my favourite songs, you should definitely go listen to it (it was practically written about Stiliet!)**

* * *

_You are, you are the proof_

_that love is beautiful_

_You are, you are the truth_

_something unusual_

_You are, you are my fire_

_you're burning like the sun_

_You are, you are, you are_

_you are the only one_

The Only One – Hot Chelle Rae

* * *

I was woken from my slumber by a weight on the other side of my bed. My hand instantly flew to the knife I kept under my pillow, slipping it out and leaping on the intruder, blade pressed to their throat.

"Whoa, Jules?!" Stiles' familiar voice filtered through my brain, and a moment later my hand slackened, the knife hitting the carpet of my room with a dull thud.

"Sorry," I apologised breathlessly, immediately feeling sick at the thought that I could have hurt him.

"It's fine," he said right away, shuffling closer to me on the mattress. "We're all a bit on edge at the moment."

"Understatement of the year," I muttered, rubbing my eyes roughly, trying to snap myself out of it. I opened my eyes again, pausing to press my lips to Stiles' prickly cheek before glancing at the clock hanging on the far wall. "It's midday," I noticed, looking back at him curiously. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"Shouldn't _you_?"

"I'm taking a sick day," I shrugged.

"Well if you're not going, then I'm definitely not going," he said simply, sliding down on the bed until his head hit the pillow (_his_ pillow, which he carted between my place and his dad's house, unable to sleep without it).

"You _have_ to go," I tried to argue, but he refused to move, merely shutting his eyes and pretending to doze. "Stiles," I prompted, shoving him gently. "You can't just skip school because your girlfriend didn't show up." He merely faked a loud snore. I could tell he was putting extra effort into being lighthearted, trying to counteract the darkness that seemed to encase all of us at the moment. "Stiles," I said again, shaking him softly.

One of his eyes popped open, swivelling around to peer at me. "I don't think I could handle it right now. Scott's dad was there, asking me all these questions, and I just can't deal with that anymore," he finally admitted to me, eye sliding shut so he didn't have to look at me while he spoke. "Let's just stay here until we hear news. I can't go sit in some pointless class and pretend that nothing's wrong."

I hesitated, but ultimately I knew I had to do what was best for him, which was definitely taking a mental health day, so I relented. "Okay," I told him, laying back down and curling myself around him happily, inhaling his scent. "Sounds good to me; I _am_ recovering from being shot four times, after all."

Everything was silent, then suddenly Stiles shot up, accidentally shoving me off of him. "You're _what_?" he asked incredulously, staring at me with wide, panicked eyes.

I sighed as I realised he knew nothing that had happened in the vault. I'd been dropped off straight away, and had had a shower before eating an early breakfast and heading to bed, I'd meant to call Stiles and fill him in, but I was too distracted by healing from the attack to think of it.

"Juliet!" he squawked, looking like he was on the brink of a mental breakdown.

Again, I relented, but not before getting my priorities straight. "Would you like some tea?"

He glared at me, wondering how I dared ask such a mundane question.

"I'm going to make some tea," I told him, tone making it clear there was to be no arguments. I slipped from the bed, pulling my favourite silk robe over my sleepwear and moving from the room. After a beat, Stiles followed me.

"Where's the devil's brother?" he asked me as we made our way down the stairs.

"No idea," I responded honestly, thinking back, trying to remember if Kol had said anything about going anywhere. "Probably screwing someone over."

Once in the kitchen, I moved over to the kettle. I'd always heated water up on the stove before recently, when Stiles had commented on my 'archaic' method of making tea, buying me the gift of a flashy new kettle, even going as far as to teach me how to use it in a series of short but serious classes.

I began to speak, telling him what had happened in short, clipped sentences. I didn't want to look at him, too scared I'd see disappointment, or anger, so I kept my eyes on the task at hand.

By the time I was finished, Stiles looked about halfway into that mental breakdown.

A moment later I realised I shouldn't joke, because he began hyperventilating, eyelids fluttering, hands shaking uncontrollably. Eyes wide, I abandoned my task and moved to his side, pressing my palms to his shoulders. "Stiles?" I asked gently, listening as his heart began to beat violently in his chest.

"J-Jules," Stiles stammered, voice shaky as he stared at me in panic. "I think I'm having a panic attack."

I wasn't exactly going to win carer-of-the-year, but I _had_ been to nursing school, and I knew enough about the basics of the human body to have a rough idea of what the best move was.

"You're okay Stiles," I told him in my most soothingly hypnotic tone, hoping it would calm him. "Stiles, love, you need to slow your breathing," I said as he gripped his chest. His knees were shaking fiercely, and I put pressure on his shoulder, carefully bringing him to the ground.

Despite my best efforts to be gentle, he still collapsed roughly on my tiled floor, sucking in air at a too fast pace, beginning to turn red.

"Love," I cooed softly, moving one hand into his hair. "It's okay," I assured him. "You're okay."

"I can't-I can't stop," he stuttered, panicking about how much he was panicking.

"It's alright," I told him, meeting his watery, glassy gaze. A tear slipped over his lid, trickling down his cheek. I wiped it away with my thumb, soothing him in low tones. "Stiles, you're going to be okay. I'm right here with you."

His breathing wouldn't slow, and I was beginning to get concerned by the colour he was turning.

Deciding to try a different tactic, I crawled closer until I was close enough to wrap myself around him like a monkey. He was curled up into a ball in my arms, panting and shaking as he tried to regain control. "Breathe with me, love," I told him, sucking in a long, deep breath of air, then letting it out slowly. My chest pressed against him with each breath, coaxing him to mirror the pattern. I did it again, and again and again and again and again, until_ finally_ Stiles' breathing began to match mine.

It was stilted and shaky, but eventually his breathing got back under control. I ran my fingers through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp in a way I hoped was soothing. "You're alright, love," I assured him again gently, and though he wasn't hyperventilating anymore, he was still shaking like a leaf. "I'm here."

He began to clutch at me, long deft fingers that I loved so very much clawing at me like he was drowning. I began to hum under my breath, an old song, one I didn't even think I still knew. I had vague memories of my mother singing it to me back when I was a little girl; on stormy nights or days when I had a fever. I had always associated the tune with safety, and it was more instinct than anything else that had me humming it quietly to Stiles on my kitchen floor.

"How are you, love?" I asked him gently after a long time, the song coming to a close.

"Better," he told me, voice barely a whisper.

Trying my best to be humorous, I murmured, "I guess you could use a few more sessions with the guidance councillor."

Stiles let out a breathy laugh and was quiet for a long few moment, before he seemed to freeze under my grip.

Concerned, I pulled back, looking down at him in worry. "Stiles?" I asked cautiously, watching him closely.

"Morrell," was all he said.

* * *

In a stroke of characteristic genius, Stiles had figured out where his dad and the other guardians were being held. It was the Nemetong, or in other words, the root cellar from Derek's tragic backstory.

The problem was, absolutely none of us knew how to get there. And on top of that, none of us knew what to do if we _did_ somehow find it. I was partial to the 'run-in-guns-blazing-snap-necks-first-ask-questions-later' method, but my suggestion was vetoed pretty much instantly by a stern and exasperated looking Lydia.

We weren't sure what to do, struggling for direction and wasting time dealing with Agent McDouchebag, when _finally_ someone who actually had some idea about what the fuck was going on showed up.

Deaton was silent as he moved from the parking lot and towards his clinic, just as silent as he'd been for the entire trip downtown.

I glanced to the left, spotting a familiar dark car parked by the entrance. "Allison's here?" I asked, looking curiously at the veterinarian. I caught the scent of dog on the breeze, and cocked my head at the man. "And Isaac?" I questioned, and he didn't answer but for a slight nod of his head. "You got the whole gang together," I murmured, glancing back at Stiles with an arched brow.

Unfortunately my hope that Deaton was at _least_ in-the-know, was quickly squashed.

"So you have no idea where the Nemetong is?" Stiles asked, voice shaky with hopelessness. Lydia twisted her hands in front of her stomach, nervous and unaccustomed to gathering at the veterinary clinic like we were.

"I'm afraid I don't," the good doctor responded, something like remorse in his expression.

Allison sighed, running a finger over a strong eyebrow tiredly, and Isaac huffed, looking vaguely annoyed.

"Well, it has to be on a telluric current, maybe even at the axes of two or where they all intersect," Stiles said, appearing to know more that the ex-emissary, not that I was surprised. "I just know it's where Derek took Paige to die."

"My dad and Gerard were there once, but Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was," Allison added, stepping forwards, pretty face cold and clinical. "And my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now."

"Mine either," Stiles murmured, frowning at the metal tabletop and biting his lip. I refrained from offering comfort, not wanting to show such softness in front of the gathered group.

"Then how do we find this place?" Isaac asked, arms crossed as he leant back against the bench.

I hadn't really expected anyone to answer, so I was slightly surprised when Deaton spoke up. "There might be a way," he admitted quietly, eyes glazed as he stared off into the distance. "But it's dangerous." He paused, turning away from whatever memory he was seeing that we weren't, and looking directly at us. "We're gonna need Scott."

"How about you tell us exactly what it is, first," I suggested – more like commanded – eyeing the veterinarian with suspicious eyes.

He hesitated, and instantly I knew that I wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "It involves Stiles, Allison and Scott," he began, and I narrowed my eyes at him, not wanting him to beat around the bush. He took a breath, but met my eyes without even a hint of fear. "We need to submerge them in ice water, slow their heartbeats, let them act as sacrifices in place of their guardians." He must have noticed the rage in my eyes. "There _is_ a chance they wouldn't, but if everything goes according to plan, they _should_ wake up."

I wanted to argue, tell him that there was no way in hell he was getting his hands on Stiles and killing him for any length of time. I glanced back at my boyfriend as I opened my mouth, and noticed the expression on his face. His eyes were pleading, and his mouth was set in a stubborn frown that I recognised all too well.

"I'll be here the whole time," I said, making it clear it wasn't up for discussion.

"I wouldn't expect anything different." Deaton paused, seeming to consider something before turning to Stiles. "This is very important, Stiles," he said seriously, taking a step closer to my human. "Have you, at any point in the last 48 hours, ingested Juliet's blood?"

It was kind of a personal question, but I could understand the reasoning behind it. Stiles, however, took a little longer to catch on. "What?" he squeaked, cheeks covered in familiar blotchy red spots as he glanced uncomfortably at the others, who all pretended like they weren't listening to spare him the embarrassment.

"You _will_ be dying tonight, if only for a few seconds – but it will still be enough to trigger the change should you have any of her blood in your system," Deaton explained patiently, and Stiles swallowed thickly, glancing at me worriedly.

"Anything he ingested is long out of his system by now," I said, seeing that Stiles was struggling for words.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes," I bit out, staring back at him cooly, and after only a brief hesitation, he nodded acceptingly.

"Well then, let's begin."

Getting ahold Scott was easier than I had thought it would be. All it took was one phone call from Stiles to arrange a meeting. I wanted to go with them to meet him, but Deaton told me he wanted me to use the time setting up the clinic, preparing the ice baths and checking the medical equipment in case – heaven forbid – it be needed.

Lydia, Allison and Isaac stayed with me, helping me fill the baths with ice and mistletoe. "Are you worried?" Lydia asked me as the other two left the room, fetching the last of the ice bags.

"No," I lied instantly, more out of instinct than anything else.

She didn't argue, even though I had a feeling she knew I was full of shit. We were silent for a moment, both of us focused on our respective tasks. "Did you know?" she questioned softly after a minute, not looking up from where she was scattering mistletoe into the icy water.

"Know what?" I responded, tone kept carefully bored, revealing absolutely nothing.

"Did you know that I was a banshee?"

I paused where I was lifting another bag of ice, waiting only a moment before tipping it into the bath. The loud noise gave me an excuse not to talk, but she saw right through me.

"You just, you didn't seem surprised when I mentioned it to Stiles," she said, moving to the next bath, keeping her eyes on her task.

Deciding it was cruel to lie, I nodded my head. "I had a suspicion," I admitted through clenched teeth.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, voice surprisingly lacking the anger I expected.

I shrugged, even though she probably wasn't watching. "I didn't want to go around telling people my theory. You already hate me enough, I figured starting a rumour that you were a banshee probably wouldn't win me any brownie points."

She was silent for a long time. "I don't hate you," she said, sounding perplexed. "_You _hate _me_."

I sighed, finally turning away from my work to look up at her, only to see she was already staring at me. "I don't hate you, Lydia," I told her honestly. "I'm not saying it isn't my fault that we don't get along, because it _is_, and I know that." I rubbed my temples, wishing I could go home and burrow under my blankets by the fire while I listened to smooth jazz and sipped a Bloody Mary – emphasis on the _bloody_. "I don't work well with others."

"You work well with Stiles, and Scott, and Allison – to some degree," she contended, perfect brows furrowing. "Why not me? You never even gave me a chance."

I sighed again, wishing I wasn't having this conversation. "I don't know," I lied once more, turning away and leaning down to pick up another bag.

"I think you _do_ know," she argued, and I couldn't fault her for it – she was right. "Why won't you tell me?" I stayed silent, not in the mood for a heart-to-heart. "Well? Do you think I'm mean? Am I too much of a bitch? - because let me tell you something, you're not much of a saint yourself-"

"Holy fuck, just shut up!" I snapped, whirling around to glare at her angrily. "I was _threatened_ by you, okay?"

She blinked at me confusedly, and I sucked in a sharp breath, pressing my thumb to the spot between my eyes as I felt a headache coming on. "What?" she asked, voice breathy.

I felt like it would be way worse if I _didn't_ explain myself, so I began talking again. "At first it was because I thought you were just another ditsy high school girl whose main concern was dating the quarterback-"

"There is no quarterback in lacrosse," she interrupted me, but I refrained from getting angry. I knew she was just struggling to understand what I was telling her, trying to regain control of the situation. I should know, it was the tactic that had gotten me through the better half of the last two centuries. "Sorry," she apologised uncomfortably, wincing at herself.

"Then, after a while, I realised you were a lot more than that, but I couldn't just _change my mind_ about you."

"Why not?"

I shrugged. "It's a matter of principle. My vampire pride wouldn't let me." I hesitated, but decided: in for a penny, in for a pound. "Then, I found a new reason to hate you." She looked even more confused, like all I was doing was giving her more questions. "Stiles was enamoured with you, and it wasn't like I could compete."

She looked downright shocked, trying to understand what I was saying. "Are you kidding?" she asked, tone shrill. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? Your hair is _always_ perfect, it defies the laws of nature!"

My lips twitched up in amusement but I still waved away her words with my hand. "That's a vampiric quality. I'm like a venus-fly trap, pretty only to draw in prey." I breathed deeply, meeting her eyes and tilting my head. "But my heart doesn't beat, and I don't grow old. I can't change or evolve, I'm stuck as an nineteen year old for all of eternity, and I have to drink blood to stay alive. Not very attractive qualities, wouldn't you agree? Not to mention that, like you, I can be a _massive_ bitch."

She was silent, processing what I'd said. I continued to watch her, observing the cogs turning in her head. "Stiles loves you," she finally told me, and I smiled at the words and the sincerity with which she said them. "You have no reason to feel threatened."

"Yeah," I nodded affirmatively, a small, genuine smile on my lips. "I know."

We both went back to our tasks, and I noticed Isaac and Allison hadn't returned. I assumed they'd overheard us conversing and given us space, which was thoughtful of them. "Can I ask you something else?" Lydia asked suddenly as I absently wiped down a bench, needing the busy work to keep my mind occupied.

"Why not?" I replied only slightly sarcastically.

She wasn't deterred. "Stiles was telling me...something about a...'humanity switch'?"

I froze, not having expected that question. "What about it?" I asked, forcing my arms to move again as I went about my task.

"It just got me thinking, what would happen, should you turn it off?" she questioned softly, like she was sure I was going to hit her for asking. "What would you do?"

I shrugged, jaw clicking as I ground my teeth together. "Hard to say," I answered her flatly.

"Could you still feel things? Like...love and...compassion?"

It was a fair enough question, but I wasn't in the mood to discuss it. Still, the last thing I wanted to do was destroy the newfound peace we'd achieved, so I swallowed my annoyance and responded politely. "In a way. I suppose it's still there – buried. Other things just take precedence. Hunger, lust, pride."

"It sounds terrible," she murmured honestly, and my lips twitched in grim amusement.

"It's not all bad," I told her. "For the person going through it, it's actually a lot of...fun." I paused. "But for the people around us? It's hell."

She didn't reply for a few moments, then cleared her throat. "I really hope you don't ever flick that switch," she told me sincerely.

It would mean that every fragile relationship I'd spent so long forming in this God-forsaken town would crumble to dust, shattering under the weight of my actions – who knew what they would be.

I shuddered at the mere thought, but covered the action with a click of my tongue. "Don't we all?"

Finally Allison and Isaac returned, and I was glad to have them back, meaning my heart-to-heart with the banshee was over with. Stiles, Scott and Deaton reappeared some minutes later, the wolf looking almost ashamed as he met my eyes, but we both said nothing.

Stiles moved to my side, and I leant into him the moment his skin touched mine. We didn't speak, just enjoyed being in each other's company once more. Being with Stiles was the easiest thing I'd ever experienced. His scent, his voice and his laugh; it was like coming home.

"Alright," Deaton began once everyone was gathered, getting straight down to business. "What did you bring?"

The doctor had instructed them to bring an item that connected them to their stolen guardian.

"Um, I got my dad's badge," my human boyfriend murmured, holding up the dented star of metal. "Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand...I tired hammering it out a bit. Still doesn't look great."

"It doesn't need to look good if it has meaning," Deaton told him, tone stern but clearly trying to be comforting. I reached out, gently curling my fingers around his. He squeezed back, heart missing a beat in his chest.

We were quiet as we waited for the next person to speak up. "Is that an actual silver bullet?" Isaac, surprisingly, was the one to speak, glancing at what Allison held in her hand.

"My dad made it; it's kind of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the code." It was new information for me – I wasn't in the habit of reading up on the traditions of hunters.

"Scott?" Deaton prompted.

"My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital," he told us, opening his curled fist to reveal a sleek gold watch in his palm. "She used to say that it was the only thing in her marriage that ever worked."

"Okay, the three of you will get in and each of us will hold you down until you're essentially...well...dead." He paused, watching each of us closely. I stopped myself from stiffening at the mental image of Stiles, no life in him. "But it's not just someone to hold you under, it needs to be someone who can pull you back. Someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether."

I immediately shifted closer to Stiles, and the hand that wasn't holding his father's badge found mine but instead locked with mine, squeezed tightly, no words needed.

"Lydia," Deaton said suddenly, eyeing us with sharp, intelligent eyes. "You'll go with Stiles."

"What?" Stiles argued instantly, looking up at Deaton with shock as his heart stuttered in his chest. I wanted to argue, snarl at the doctor in anger, but he shot me a look laced with heavy meaning, and I knew it wasn't a matter to argue over; it was Stiles' life at stake. "If anyone can pull me back, it's gonna be Jules," he told the doctor, voice thick with conviction.

"It's okay Stiles," I said soothingly, understanding instantly what the man meant.

"What? No."

"Stiles," I calmed him, squeezing his hand tightly as I looked up at him sadly. "What he means is, a vampire can't do this for you."

"Why not?" he asked, stubborn as always.

"Because the dead can't pull you back from the dead," Deaton said bluntly, though not unkindly. "It has to be someone with both feet in the land of the living, not someone with one in the land of the dead."

Stiles looked like he still wanted to argue, but I nudged him gently, shaking my head. He pressed his lips together unhappily. "Are you sure? I mean Scott and I both have to go under..." Allison said, surprising me as she was the one to speak up, looking around the group with wide eyes.

"It's okay," Scott told her soothingly, a small, pained smile on his puppy-dog face.

"I'll let you all get ready," Deaton continued once he was sure we were all on the same page. I knew he meant '_say goodbye, just in case_' but just didn't want to say it.

Scott wandered closer to the doctor, murmuring to him in soft tones that I didn't care to listen in on, Allison and Lydia began to talk between themselves, with Isaac hovering close by, but I had a more important person to focus on.

I turned to Stiles, unable to conceal the worry clearly spread across my face. He said nothing, eyes watery as he stared down at me. I forced a smile onto my lips, much like Scott had done. I took his lapels in my hands, barely registering the noises behind us as each person began to strip, going down to just their underclothes.

I pushed the flannel from his shoulders, peeling it off of him and then gently folding it up, laying it out of the way on a bench to the side. He robotically toed off his shoes, then bent down to peel off his socks, shoving them in his converse and putting them under the bench.

Once he was prepared, I reached up and took his face in my hands, meeting his chocolate eyes dead on. "You're going to be okay," I told him, not sure who I was trying to convince: him or me.

"Maybe..." he hesitated, licking his lips and swallowing nervously. "Maybe I should drink some of your blood."

I started, glancing up at him in pure surprise. "What?" I asked, eyes wide with shock.

"It eliminates the chance that I won't come back."

"It eliminates the chance that you won't come back _human_," I hissed back, keeping my tone low and hoping none of the wolves were listening in. Seeing the distraught look on his face, I pulled back, sighing as I ran and hand through my raven hair. "Do you _want_ to wake up as a vampire right now?" He looked torn, and I felt a twinge of pain. "I mean, ignoring the looming threat of actual, real death, if it was any other day, are you really ready for that _now_?"

He breathed out sharply through his nose, closing his eyes as he spoke. "No," he said honestly, and I nodded even though he couldn't see.

"Then I'm not going to do it," I replied, taking the decision out of his hands.

His eyes snapped open, only to glare at me in something like betrayal. "You'd rather I die?"

Refusing to allow him to take his anxiety out on me, I took his chin in my hand and forced him to meet my eyes. "I'd rather you didn't spend the next century resenting me for changing you before you were ready," I responded calmly, pain in my eyes at the mere thought, and immediately all the fight drained from him.

He sagged, breath leaving his lips in a huff as he dropped his forehead to mine hard enough that it made a loud sound, but neither of us were affected.

"Sorry," he apologised under his breath, and I smiled, though the expression was hollow.

"I'll be right here," I told him, reaching up to loop my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to me and burying my face in his neck, an action we'd done a thousand times before, yet somehow felt entirely new.

I breathed in his scent, enjoying the feeling of his warm neck against my cold skin. A terrible thought hit me, one I instantly wanted to shove away. The worst part was that I knew it was more than just a thought. It was an instinct.

Nothing was ever going to be the same after they did this.

"I hate to break this up, but we're on a bit of a clock," Deaton's deep voice broke through the terrified haze that had filled me, and with a press of my lips to his neck, I reluctantly pulled away from my human.

I forced a calm smile onto my lips, looking up at him with as light of an expression as I could manage, running my hands through his hair.

I wished it didn't feel like I was saying goodbye.

"It's important to remember not to interfere in any way," Deaton told me quietly as each of my friends lined themselves up along the row of ice baths I'd prepared. "There's no telling what your mere touch would do to any one of them."

"Understood," I nodded stoically, but he didn't seem offended by my iciness.

"By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should know something," Stiles said suddenly, half submerged in the freezing water. I stayed where I was, eyes flickering over each of them as I clenched my fists hard enough that my bones cracked under the pressure. "Your dad's in town."

Scott seemed floored by the knowledge, but didn't have time to process it.

Stiles looked up and met my eyes. I had the irritating urge to mouth some heartfelt words to him, or place a hand over my heart, but ultimately, I couldn't be so ridiculous. I merely inclined my head, gazing into his caramel eyes with a worry I couldn't hide.

He nodded back, saying everything he needed to with just his eyes.

Then he was under the water, and I felt instantly and inexplicably, alone.

* * *

I wasn't happy, and you didn't need to be a mind reader to know it (mostly because I was extremely vocal about this fact).

"It's been thirteen _fucking_ hours," I hissed at Deaton furiously, the aging man merely staring back blankly, the picture of perfect calmness. "You said it would be _minutes_."

"I can't control how long the process takes," he countered cooly, hands held out to placate me.

"What _can_ you control, you glorified veterinarian?" I spat, seething in my panic, terrified something had gone wrong. Deaton said nothing, continuing to watch me with an infuriatingly serene look on his face. "The full moon rises in _seven hours_," I reminded him, as though he needed reminding. "What if they're stuck in this bullshit ice-coma for longer than that?"

"You need to calm down," he finally spoke, watching me with dark, intelligent eyes.

"Jules, it'll take as long as it takes," Lydia spoke up, only to press her lips shut tightly when I whirled around to glare at her.

I snarled, fingers twitching with the need to punch something. With a grunt I spun around, snatching my jacket from where it hung off the back of a chair and shoving my arms violently through the sleeves. "Where are you going?" Isaac asked from where he sat in the corner, head tilted back against the wall.

"Out," I snapped, not in the mood. "Is that a problem?" I added sarcastically, glaring over at the wolf, daring him to say yes.

"You're not going to wait for them to wake up?" It was Lydia who spoke this time, staring over at me with wide, expressive eyes.

"We have mere hours until the moon rises and their guardians are dead," I pointed out harshly. "Sitting here isn't going to help anything."

"So what're you going to do?" Isaac questioned, doubt spread across his face.

I hesitated, "I have no idea. But anything's better than this."

The air was cool as I stepped outside, but as usual it had no affect on me, my core temperature already well below the average human. I walked at a normal pace down the pavement, away from the clinic. My shoes made thumping sounds on the ground as I strode down the road without any real purpose.

I knew what my only option was, but that didn't mean I liked it. With great reluctance I changed directions, heading west into the suburbs, instead of deeper downtown.

The lights were on when I arrived home, and I could hear the sounds of things being moved around inside. With a sigh I prepared myself to deal with the Original I'd come to find, not knowing what mood I'd find him in.

"Ah!" he crowed as I slipped inside, turning the corner into my lounge room and letting the door click shut behind me. "Juliet! Took you long enough; I've been waiting for you."

"What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously, eyeing Kol as he flitted around the room, tossing my things out of his way as he clearly searched for something.

"Looking for something," he didn't tell me anything I hadn't already guessed.

"What?"

"None of your concern," he muttered, pausing his task for a moment to look up at me, familiar impish smirk on his lips. "We're going on a trip."

My eyebrows hit my hairline as I stared across the room at him incredulously. "What?" I repeated, eyes narrowing apprehensively. "Where?"

"The 'where' is not of import," he responded distractedly, waving me off as though I were a fly.

"Says you," I argued childishly, then paused, realising there were far more important things to be arguing about. "Listen, we're in trouble. We need your help."

"No can do," he murmured with a very unsympathetic click of his tongue.

"This is _important_, Kol," I hissed, taking a step closer.

He looked up at me, something like amusement in his dark brown eyes. "Ordinarily I'd be thrilled to assist you and your little...pack," he said the word with disdain. "But you see, the thing is, I'm going to have to call in that favour."

I froze at his words before frowning, annoyance and impatience gripping me. "This isn't the time for games, Kol," I growled, glancing out the window, taking note of exactly where the sun was positioned in the sky.

"Oh, but you know how I love my games," he all but sang, ignoring my irritation. I remained silent, glaring at him in a way that would intimidate him, had he been anyone else. He rolled his eyes, striding across the room until he stood a mere foot from me. "We're going to go on a little trip," he told me, grin on his face. "And we're going to have a hell of a lot of fun."

I sighed, exhausted from trying to talk with him. "Kol-"

"The favour I'm calling in is simple," he said with a shrug and a smirk. "Pull that stick out of your arse for a week, and we can finally call it even."

This time I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'll save my friends by myself," I muttered with a displeased grimace, turning away from my old friend.

"You wouldn't be going back on our deal, would you?" he asked, tone pleasant, though clearly masking an edge of warning. I froze where I stood in the doorway, staring unseeingly at the foot of the stairs. "Besides, I could always...make you."

Realisation filled me and I spun back around to face him, my expression pleading. "Don't do it, Kol," I begged him, grinding my teeth so hard that I heard my jaw bone crunch. "Please."

"Don't worry," he rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to switch off your humanity."

I sagged, overwhelmingly relieved.

"You're going to spend the week with me, and then you're going to do it yourself." And then I made an absolutely fatal mistake. I met his eyes.

The last thing I saw before it all went dark was a familiar wicked smirk spread across his pale lips.

* * *

**A/N: wicked of me, I know.**

**On an unrelated note, I just bought and completely devoured a new book. It's called 'November 9' by Colleen Hoover, and it's fantastic. It's full of romance and witty banter, and it'll leave you crying and laughing at the same time (I know that's how I eventually ended up). It's brilliant, just a really great read. Be sure to send me a message if you pick it up, so we can gush about it together.**

**Another quick question, I'm struggling with the 3B plot a little and I was hoping you guys could clear something up for me. The Nogitsune was suppressed in Stiles for the first half of the season, right? Like, it really _was_ Stiles saying and doing everything, and the Nogitsune only came out when it's obvious it did, right? I hope that made sense, I'd really appreciate the help! Send me a message if you can help me sort it out (I might even let someone beta read the 3B chapters!)**

**Hey, hope you enjoyed this one by the way, I'll be seeing you all _very_ soon.**


	48. Monster

**A/N: Huge response to the last chapter, thank you so much! There seems to be a hint of confusion about the end of the last chapter, and just to clear it up for those of you who don't watch the other shows: Original vampires can ****compel all other vampires. That's what happened at the end of chapter 47. For more answers, you're just going to have to keep reading, huh? :)**

**I hope you all enjoy this one, it's where everything begins to go downhill *Insert evil laughter here*.**

* * *

_It's hiding in the dark_

_Its teeth are razor sharp_

_There's no escape for me_

_It wants my soul,_

_It wants my heart_

_No one can hear me scream_

_Maybe it's just a dream_

_Or maybe it's inside of me_

_Stop this monster!_

Monster – Skillet

* * *

I woke up in a pool of blood.

This wasn't entirely unusual, only slightly surprising, so I sat up calmly, surveying my immediate surroundings. I was in an alley, again not an uncommon place to find a vampire such as myself. There were lanterns hung up across the top of the bricks.

I hoped I hadn't woken up in China again, the first three times were exhausting enough.

I looked down at myself, glancing over the once-blue-now-dark-red dress that wasn't mine, and the sparkling six inch stilettos my feet were squished into. I pressed a hand to my hair, frowning as I felt the thick knots, covered with dry blood. It was then that I took notice of the scent.

Vampire blood had a scent entirely of it's own. It was old and dusty, usually reeking of death. The blood I was surrounded by? It gave off the familiar delicious and salty aroma of_ human_ blood.

I forced myself to my feet as I tried not to throw up, feeling extra tall in my hopefully-borrowed heels. The next thing I noticed was how _powerful_ I felt. I felt warmer than usual, and my skin felt soft and strong, my muscles felt tensed and ready, and I felt a coil of power in my stomach, one I hadn't felt for such a very long time.

Next, I took in the bodies piled to my left. Grief speared in my gut, and my eyes watered with shame. I felt panic rise within me, and I wasn't sure how it was about to manifest, so I shoved it deep down, refusing to focus on the feeling, even though on the inside it felt like everything I had so tirelessly built was slipping out from under me.

But I was no stranger to this sort of situation, so I quickly checked the area for witnesses or surveillance cameras, before clicking my way over to the massacre. I knelt down, gravel digging into my knees as I rummaged through the clothes donning the bodies. There were three in total. Two older men and one young woman. I slipped the wallets from their pockets robotically, barely even registering what I was doing.

I took great care not to look at the names on their identifications, merely snatching them and the money inside before throwing them back onto the pile. The oldest corpse had a lighter in his suit pocket, and I took a minute to light each body on fire, getting rid of the evidence of vampirism.

I had to get out of there quickly. Thankfully it was late at night, I could tell from the smell in the air and the number of people on the street. Judging by the somewhat familiar surroundings – a long street, stretching for what seemed like forever, with bright, glowing lights – I determined I was in Vegas.

I'd woken up in worse places (see: China – it was always a bitch to find my way off of that particular continent), and at least it wasn't that far from home.

The thought of home made me want to throw up again, but I held it down and continued walking. It was late enough that nobody really gave me a second look along the street. I kept my head down, and those of them that weren't blind drunk knew well enough to mind their own Goddamn business.

Stealing clothes was easy enough. I didn't bother using the money I'd scavenged, instead just compelling a bundle of clothes out of a souvenir shop and walking out wearing an 'I heart Vegas' sweatshirt, a pair of ugly men's camo-print swimming trunks and some five dollar flip-flops. I robotically washed the blood off my skin in a public restroom located behind a shady convenience store run by a family of horrorstruck, and no doubt underpaid, workers.

My phone was missing in action, and though I knew Stiles' number by heart, I needed time to figure out what had happened and what to tell him before I spoke to him.

Who knew how long I'd been gone for? Where did he think I'd gone? And most importantly, what had happened with the Darach and Deucalion? Had the kids woken up? Were their guardians safe?

One person I _did_ feel capable of calling was a particular Original vampire whom I could easily say I now loathed with everything I had in me. "Kol!" I hissed into the public phone box sitting outside a questionable looking motel where you paid by the hour. I'd gotten his voicemail, and though I was unsurprised, I was definitely pissed the fuck off. "What the _fuck_ did you do?" I was furious, and the old lady waiting behind me to use the phone looked terrified by my deadly tone, but I was wholly unconcerned. "How could you _do_ this, you shit-brained jackass? What the _hell_ am I supposed to tell my friends?"

My eyes watered strongly, and I shut them before the tears could spill over.

"Whatever," I finally said into the phone after a long minute of nothing but harsh breathing. "I'm done with you. If you come back to Beacon Hills, I'll kill you. The debt is paid. We're even. I'm done."

I hung up, slamming the phone back into place with enough force to crack the plastic of the receiver. Uncaring, I spun around, all but shoving passed the shocked looking old lady and taking off down the street.

The first bus I could catch didn't leave until well after sunrise, so I bought a ticket and curled up in a chair at the back of the station. I tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn't shut down – I was still wired from the insane amount of blood I'd consumed.

There was a TV mounted on the far wall, and as a news story splashed across the screen – a fire killing what they assumed to be homeless people in a back alley along the strip; shocker – I caught sight of the date.

_September 23rd._

I groaned loudly, the back of my head cracking against the drywall behind me. I shut my eyes, hoping to block everything out, but all it did was make my thoughts louder.

I couldn't remember the last week of my life. This was unsurprising, since Kol was involved, but I _was_ left with a lot of _feelings_. It was like I couldn't remember any names or faces or details of any kind, yet I could remember the taste of fresh blood as it pooled on my tongue. I could remember human screams as bones snapped under my hands. I could remember people crying, begging me for their life as the scent of their mixed tears and blood filled the room.

I could remember _loving_ it.

With an alarmed gasp, I mentally felt around for that little switch inside myself that I was oh so familiar with. I was immensely relieved when I found it to be firmly switched on, meaning my humanity was intact, at least for the moment.

Time had never moved so slowly, it seemed like an entire day later that I was finally on the bus and slowly but surely heading towards California. I managed to doze for some of the ride, the rocking of the large vehicle lulling me to sleep. I woke up about an hour before we reached the nearest city.

I contemplated taking another bus directly to Beacon Hills, but decided it wasn't that long of a run and that the fresh air would help clear my head.

Less than a half hour later I was jogging through familiar forest. I leapt over logs and ducked low hanging branches, the actions so familiar they were almost muscle-memory. I was heading through a spot only a few short minutes from my house when the ground seemed to drop out from under me.

With a sharp intake of breath I stopped short, preventing myself from falling face first into some kind of crater that I was certain hadn't been there when I'd left.

"What the...?" I trailed off, brow furrowing as I stared at the imploded forest floor. The destruction surrounded the stump of a massive old tree, the roots gnarled and twisted amongst the dirt. The whole clearing crackled with dark magic. I could feel it in the air, in the wind as it blew across my face.

Something had happened here, and it hadn't been anything good.

It had been days ago now, and all the scents were marred by that of animals, so it was useless trying to figure out who had been there. I could only hope none of my friends or their families were hurt. I turned to go around the new hole, only to stop short once more, surprised when my green eyes fell upon a small, glowing firefly.

This shouldn't have been alarming, but something about the way it hovered in front of my face made me wary. Animals of all kinds – insects included – tended to stay as far away from my kind as they could, and even stranger – they usually didn't come out until after sunrise.

Shaking my head, I pulled myself from my ridiculous stupor, turning the other way and slipping from the eerie atmosphere that clung to the clearing like a stench.

As much as I wanted to see Stiles, I figured it was best to get home, have a proper shower and change into clothes that didn't scream '_I just spent the week in Las Vegas_'. Stiles however, as usual, took the decision out of my hands. When I broke through the line of trees on the edge of my lawn, I caught the sounds of someone pacing the length of my living room floor.

Wary at first, it only took a moment for me to realise the heartbeat pumping from within was achingly familiar.

The back door was unlocked, and I twisted the handle with little care, pushing my way into my house and making my way through to my human, deliberately making as much sound as I could so he knew someone was coming.

"Hello?" Stiles called cautiously, heart stuttering nervously as he turned to face me. He froze when he met my eyes and the knife in his hand dropped to the floor as he realised who was standing opposite him. "Jules?" he asked, like he could barely believe it was me.

"Stiles?" I responded in kind, equally as perplexed. Why was he pacing my living room with a knife in his hand? What had I missed whilst I was MIA?

"Oh my God," he finally breathed, rushing forwards and slamming into me with as much force as his skinny human body could and wrapping his arms around me and clutching me tightly to him. "Where the _hell_ have you been?" he demanded, refusing to let go of me for even a second, conspicuously breathing in the scent of my hair. "And why do you reek of smoke and booze?" He didn't give me any time to formulate a reply. "It doesn't even matter, I'm just relieved you're okay." Stiles paused, finally pulling back only to frown at me heavily. "Wait, it does _so_ matter," he argued like I'd been the one to interrupt. "Where the _hell_ _were you_?" he repeated lividly, hands braced on my shoulders as he stared at me with wide eyes.

I was about to answer when his eyes flickered down my form, taking in the souvenir sweater and the letters plastered across my chest in bright neon letters.

"Vegas?" he hissed dubiously, staring at me in incredulity.

Exhausted, I could only stare back with bleary eyes. A deep sadness twisted in my gut, and I blinked up at him wearily, biting my lip to try and quell the feelings rising within me.

Understanding and fear appeared in his eyes, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he looked down at me. "You didn't go willingly, did you?" he asked, though I was sure he already knew.

"I-um," I stammered, forcing myself to take a deep breath and calm down. "I just really want a shower," I told him honestly, struggling to hold his gaze as I averted my eyes to my feet.

"I have to call everyone," he said as we slowly and hesitantly walked to the stairs. "Tell them you're back, call off the search dogs," his lips were tipped up in a smile at his weak joke, but his eyes were hollow. "But I mean, I could do it from the bedroom-"

"No," I spoke too quickly, making him wince at the desperation in my tone. "No," I repeated quieter, forcing myself to meet his honey gaze. "I can handle it. I'll come back down soon."

I turned to leave before he could say anything more, and though his hand snapped out to grasp mine, I easily broke the connection, tugging out of his grip and moving up the stairs at a frustratingly human pace. I could hear Stiles murmuring on the phone as I retrieved a towel, moving into the bathroom and peeling off the tourist outfit I was clothed in.

The water was so hot that it would have given a human burns, but it merely felt lukewarm to my frozen skin. I could still hear Stiles over the running of the water, and I shoved my face into the heavy stream, hoping it would block out the sounds.

The words muted to a dull murmur, and I was able to focus on just scrubbing my skin raw, wishing it was enough to get rid of the stench of death I could still feel clinging to me like a second skin. The door downstairs opened and closed, and though I was irritated by someone else being in the house, I pushed it aside and focused on the feeling of the water beating down on the tense muscles of my back.

I towelled off, slipped into my room and changed into my favourite old t-shirt and sweatpants, before pulling a sweater over my head – that was for comfort rather than warmth – and made my way downstairs where it stank of wet dog.

"Jules," Scott sight in relief as I appeared in the doorway, putting down the glass of water that he'd fetched himself from the fridge. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Sorry," I apologised flatly, gritting my teeth against a slew of unpleasant emotions as they appeared.

"Where were you?"

"Vegas," I admitted, the only answer I _did_ know.

Scott paused, glancing over at Stiles for guidance. My boyfriend stepped forwards, hands held out like he was approaching a baby deer. "What were you doing?"

I looked down at my feet ashamedly. "I don't remember."

Stiles blanched. "You don't _remember_?"

I sighed, not wanting to admit what I knew to be the truth. "I think Kol compelled me," I admitted reluctantly. "Well, I _know_ he compelled me." I sighed heavily, pressing my fingertips to my temples to ease the oncoming ache.

Stiles looked about ready to burst a blood vessel. "That rat _bastard_," he seethed, turning around while he battled with his own anger. I wanted to approach, but didn't feel like I deserved to be in the same room as him, let alone touch him. Who knew what had happened on the non-consensual-holiday-from-hell? I had a feeling it went further than just ripping open a few jugulars and causing general mayhem, and the mere thought made me sick to my stomach. Stiles spun back around to face me, uncharacteristic rage on his handsome features. "Where is he now?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I shrugged tiredly but honestly. "I woke up in an alley, he was nowhere to be found. Tried calling him, but he didn't answer – not that I'm surprised." I sighed again, allowing myself to drop into the welcoming cushions of my couch and sinking into the foam gladly. "Good riddance, I say," I added with a curl of my lip.

"Is he coming back?" Scott asked warily from where he stood across the room.

"He's not _welcome_ back." I paused, taking the time to look over them both, as though checking for injuries from a fight I knew had to have happened days ago. "What happened here? Did anyone die?" They were silent for a beat, glancing at each other as they prepared to answer me. "Well?" I prompted impatiently when neither said anything.

"Jennifer," Scott finally spoke, eyes glazed over as he was clearly seeing something I couldn't. "She's gone."

"Gone as in _dead_?" I confirmed. They nodded sombrely. Ignoring the sad cloud that hung over the room, I grinned. "Ding dong," I sang, and Stiles rolled his eyes as I continued, "The witch is dead."

"That's real mature," the human said with a scowl, but I could tell it was forced.

"And your parents?" I asked quickly, thoughts flying to Melissa, John and Chris.

"Safe and sound," he assured me, tone showing his relief.

"Well then-" I cut myself off, suddenly becoming aware of a force in the room, a powerful pull coming from our resident teen wolf. "What's that?" I asked seriously, eyeing the wolf suspiciously. "What did you do?" I demanded, slipping from the couch I was seated on and wandering over to Scott, who shuffled away from me uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" he asked confusedly, glancing down at his t-shirt and jeans combo self-consciously.

I leaned closer to him, pressing my face into his neck and sniffing obviously. "Jules?" Stiles asked awkwardly from behind me, but I paid him zero mind.

I pulled away from the wolf, eyeing him in disbelief. "You're an _alpha_ now?!" I exclaimed, part thrilled and part infuriated. "You don't think you should have led with that little fact?!"

Scott pulled at his collar, looking more uncomfortable by the minute.

I whirled around on Stiles, glaring at him accusingly. "Hey," he cried indignantly, glaring right back. "We're not the ones who disappeared off the face of the Earth for a whole week. _We _should be questioning _you_!"

"I told you, Kol compelled me," I grumbled, brow furrowed in irritation. "I didn't know what I was doing."

"Convenient," he murmured, and my eyebrows hit my hairline.

"Excuse me?" I asked dangerously, and he blinked in surprise at himself, frowning confusedly as he looked down at his shoes. "Hey Scott, you wanna make us some tea?" I told the wolf, my gaze fixed on a sheepish looking Stiles.

"Uh – not really," Scott replied honestly, clearly not taking the hint. I slid my eyes across to him, narrowing them in a glower that made it click into place. "Oh!" he said obviously, blinking in surprise himself. He cleared his throat. "Right. Sure." With that he turned and wandered into the kitchen and began preparing tea none of us would drink, extra loudly to make sure we knew he wasn't listening in (though I knew he probably was).

"You okay?" I eventually asked Stiles, eyeing him with concern.

My boyfriend sighed exhaustedly, dropping down into the seat I'd just vacated and holding his head in his hands. Not sure how to proceed, I slowly sat in the space next to him, one of my small hands coming up to rest between his shoulder blades, my thumb rubbing small and hopefully soothing circles on his cotton-covered skin.

"I've just been...on edge lately. Like there's this irritation, this...darkness inside of me," he admitted after a beat. "Deaton said it's just aftereffects of the ritual," he assured me once he noticed my motions freeze. "He said it was normal." I wanted to say something, but had no idea where to even begin. "I was terrified," he said softly, beating me to it. "When I realised you were gone, I thought you were...well...gone."

I understood what he was saying, and shock gripped me. "You thought I'd left you?" I asked disbelievingly. "All of you?"

His lips quirked up in a self-deprecating smirk. "The thought crossed our minds."

Bitterness curdled in my gut. "Oh," I murmured, dropping my hand from his back and inching myself away from him on the couch cushions. My lungs suddenly felt like they were full of glue, and my silent heart felt as though it had turned to lead.

Stiles glanced up, regret splashed across his face. "I didn't – I didn't _really_ believe that," he stammered desperately, shuffling closer to me, refusing to allow the distance I'd put between us. "I just...it was just a thought."

"I understand," I replied mechanically, the hurt still buzzing around wildly deep in my gut.

"No, Jules-"

"Scott!" I called loudly, even though there was no need. The wolf appeared in the doorway, eyeing us cautiously. "I think it's time you told me the story; everything I missed," I said, ignoring the way Stiles was staring at the side of my face imploringly. "From the start, if you would."

* * *

We spent most of the day debriefing, them telling me the story as they knew it. I was relieved all of the important people were okay, and content in the knowledge that Derek and his brat of a sister were out of town for the foreseeable future.

Finally Scott had to leave, and though Stiles protested, I made him leave too, telling them both that I desperately needed some time to myself after travelling from Vegas to California on a tiny and terrible smelling bus whose driver only seemed to want to listen to show-tunes and shitty talk-back radio.

"I love you," Stiles had said as I'd all but pushed him out the door.

At least I didn't have to lie in my response. "I love you," I'd told him truthfully before I'd smiled to conceal my inner pain and shut the door firmly after him.

I spent my time at home after that, listening to jazz and staying firmly away from my blood supply, still feeling uncomfortably full from my week in Sin City. I started a fire and curled up next to it, sketching absent-mindedly on blank pieces of paper and only stopping when a particularly good saxophone solo stole my attention.

I knew I had to face the music some time, I couldn't hide from my problem forever, and that was how the next day I found myself standing on the Stilinski's front porch, staring irritatedly at the doorbell that seemed to be mocking me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, steeling myself and pressing the smug little Godforsaken button, stepping back and listening to the sounds coming from inside as the two men headed for the door.

Though I could hear John's heavier footsteps moving towards me, a lighter and quicker pair that I knew belonged to Stiles hit the ground running, overtaking his father and beating him to the door. The slab of wood was tugged open, and Stiles was pressed up against the doorframe in what I assumed was meant to be a casual position.

"Jules," he greeted me uncertainly, pushing the door open wider, a clear invitation.

"Hello, love," I responded gently, slipping off my leather jacket before he had a chance to help, hanging it up on the hook just inside the foyer.

"Juliet," his father was the one to speak next, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing me cautiously. I realised, remembering back to what Stiles had told me the other day, he knew exactly what I was now. He looked uncomfortable, and the expression on his face was like a stake to the gut. "Why don't you come through?" he offered unsurely. "We were just about to have dinner. Theres plenty for everyone."

"That would be lovely, Sheriff," I inclined my head respectfully, also unsure how I should be acting.

Stiles looked just as uncomfortable as the rest of us, thankfully, and led me through the house, towards the kitchen where his dad was already putting out another set of cutlery for me. I slipped into the spare seat at their small dinner table, taking the glass of water John was offering me with a grateful smile.

We ate in silence for a solid five minutes before John finally broke it. "Do you even _eat_ human food?"

I looked up in surprise, as Stiles hissed, "Dad!"

"Yes," I answered him with blinking, scooping up another forkful of mash potato and eating it to prove the point.

"But you don't need it to survive," he continued, seeming desperate for answers.

"No."

"You need human blood to survive."

"Yes."

He paused, taking a sip of his beer and looking thoughtful. I swallowed another mouthful of food, keeping my eyes on him, not wanting to seem weak.

"I suppose you know what question I'm going to ask next," he said, and I gave up on eating the food, putting down my cutlery and folding my hands together in front of me on the table, giving the man my full attention.

"Yes."

"Do you kill people?"

Stiles choked on his mouthful, but I didn't spare him so much as a glance. I had to answer honestly, even though every single bone in my body was screaming at me to lie. "Not anymore." Okay, so it was still a lie, if what had happened less than 48 hours ago was any measure, but I once more forced myself not to think about it.

His eyebrow twitched. "But you used to?"

I hesitated, struggling to continue spewing the truth. "Yes."

His heart sped up in his chest, and my own ached painfully. "How many?"

_That_ was the question I was dreading above all else, and the worst part was, it was because I didn't even know the answer. "Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to," I responded smoothly, chin tilting up towards the ceiling, lips pressed into a firm line.

He chuckled, but the sound was more bitter than anything else. "You've got me there," he admitted, running his palm over his mouth before taking a sip of his beer. "Maybe it's better I don't know." He put down the bottle, blue eyes focused intently on me. "Arresting you wouldn't do any good, would it?" he seemed to have come to terms with this truth.

"No sir," I replied honestly. "You've thought about it?"

"Of course I have," he all but spat back. "All those people that you've murdered, they need justice."

"Do cows get justice when humans slaughter them in the millions for _their_ blood?" I snapped in response, a feeling of deep unease building within me. John looked taken aback, for that matter, so did Stiles, and I instantly slouched, guilt burning like vervain in my chest. "That sounded harsher than I meant for it to sound."

"You just compared people, _innocent_ people, to _cattle_," the Sheriff looked sick by my words, only intensifying my guilt.

I had done that, and I was completely right in my metaphor. Vampires – and most supernatural creatures, for that matter – were at the top of the food chain. Yes, people were dead, but it was simply natural selection, wasn't it?

That's life; predators eat their prey.

None of this could be said under these circumstances, of course. Humans tended to dislike being told they weren't exempt from the laws of nature, arrogant as they were. He wouldn't ever understand – at least, not without a dose of vampire blood and a snapped neck...but I digress.

"I had better go," I said, pushing back my chair and slipping to my feet. I glanced to Stiles who looked like a deer caught in the headlights, honey brown eyes wide as they could go, frozen in place as he tried to process what was happening in front of him.

The Sheriff noticed the direction of our gazes, and cleared his throat, making me turn to look at him cautiously. "Telling you to stay away from my son won't do any good either, will it?" he said, already knowing full well that was the case.

"I'm afraid, whether you like it or not, I'm going to be around for as long as Stiles wants me," I told him with conviction. I met Stiles' eyes once more. "I'll see you later," I promised him, and he nodded wordlessly. "Sheriff," I finally nodded to my boyfriend's dad, painfully forcing my lips up into something of a polite smile before turning and leaving the house.

It felt like the ground was shaking under my feet with every step I could. Car engines echoed around me, but I paid no attention, continuing on down the road, my hands tucked deep into my pockets.

I hadn't felt so pathetic and ashamed to be what I was since...since I'd moved to this fucking hole of a town.

My eyes were focused on the pavement in front of me, sidestepping the specks of gum in the gravel when I heard someone coming up behind me. I didn't bother to move, assuming the oncoming traffic would see me, but a moment later they bumped into me. The force wasn't enough to knock me off course, but the stranger wasn't as strong as I was, and with an undignified shriek he fell to the concrete.

I rolled my eyes but didn't bother apologising – it was their fault, after all.

"Aw, shit," the man, who I assumed was an avid jogger from the ridiculous shorts and sweatbands he wore, cussed.

A scent reached my nose. Vampires were like sharks, one drop of blood could be smelt from miles away. Unfortunately for this health conscious and competitive human, he was exceptionally close, and even a newborn could have detected the salty and mouthwatering scent of blood that was dripping from the deep graze splayed along his forearm.

"Watch where you're going," the ludicrous looking man growled, but I didn't have it in me to point out that _he_ was the one in the wrong. "Well, are you going to say sorry?" he demanded indignantly.

My eyes followed a drop of ruby red blood as it dribbled from the wound, trickling down his arm and falling from the tip of his elbow. My mouth filled with saliva and my gums ached. I groaned as my hands curled into tight fists at my sides.

I had only just eaten, how could I still be hungry? Why was my body reacting this way? It was like the tolerance I'd painstakingly built up over the last year was crumbling from under me. All the reasons for resisting were becoming quieter and quieter in my head, and I whimpered, my jaw aching under the strain I was using to keep it shut, concealing the fangs that would be visible should I open my mouth.

"Whoa," the jogger murmured warily, eyeing me with suspicion. I wondered vaguely what I must have looked like; body tensed, coiled like a python preparing to strike, eyes no doubt beginning to turn red with blood. His heartbeat picked up in fear as he took a step back, and I couldn't deny the curl of pleasure I felt at his terror. "It's fine, geez," he shrugged it off, turning around and beginning to jog in the other direction, the opposite of where he'd been heading before.

I locked my body down, all but frozen on the side of the road, my muscles cramping as I tensed them so tightly.

I didn't dare to breathe, turning around after what must have been an eternity of convincing myself not to go after the prey, and stalking in the direction of my house.

Something was seriously wrong with me, and I wasn't sure what. All I knew, was that whatever had happened in my missing week was going to cost everyone in this town dearly.

And yet it still wasn't enough incentive to leave.


	49. Sinners

**A/N: Hello beautiful readers, this chapter is really more of a filler than anything, but it sort of foreshadows events coming up very soon. Also, this chapter will push my word count to over 300,000! Kind of a big milestone for me, so I'm pretty proud. Send me a review in celebration!**

**On a different note, would any of you brilliant and talented people be interested in making either a banner or a video for this story? I'd love to see what you guys could come up with, and if you do it I'll pay you in everlasting friendship and early editions for future chapters. Let me know!**

_Our lives are stories, waiting to be told_

_In search of silver linings, we discovered gold_

_And judgement taught us that our hearts were wrong_

_But they're the ones that we'll look down upon_

_You showed me feelings I've never felt before_

_We're making enemies, knocking on the devil's door_

_But how can you expect me not to eat,_

_When the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet?_

Sinners – Lauren Aquilina

* * *

I was dozing peacefully, not letting myself slip into a sleep deep enough to dream, too afraid of what I might see. I listened to the sounds of Stiles' heartbeat, focused on it as it sped and slowed, clearly dreaming.

Not _quite_ conscious, I was shocked when I was abruptly jolted from my light slumber by Stiles shooting upright, screaming at the top of his lungs like a man in agony.

I instantly regained consciousness, eyes snapping open in a panic as I leapt over my screaming boyfriend, eyes scanning the room for any hint of a threat. When I was sure we were alone, I turned my full attention to him. "Stiles?" I yelled over his incoherent wailing. "Stiles?!" I repeated louder, alarmed as one of my small hands curled around his shaking bicep.

The door burst open with a sudden crash and John rushed into the room, making a beeline for his screeching son.

"Stiles!" he yelled, perching on the other side of the bed and wrapping his arms around him. "_Stiles_!" he bellowed in a panic as Stiles struggled to break his protective hold.

Knowing I had to do _something_, I gently but firmly pushed the Sheriff out of the way, making him stumble away from the bed. I immediately climbed on top of Stiles, grasping both of his clammy hands in mine and holding them to the mattress above his head with ease as I stayed sitting on his waist, preventing him from thrashing about and hurting himself.

"Stiles," I cooed as his hollering finally calmed to a mere whimper, body still shaking like it was set to vibrate. "You're okay," I assured him softly, letting go of one of his hands to cradle his face, staring down at him with unrestrained worry. "It was just a bad dream."

I wished I could say it was the first time this had happened, but in actuality it was really the sixth episode in under two weeks, and I was more than a little concerned.

John seemed to share my worry, kneeling beside the bed and staring at his son with anxiety. "You okay now?" I asked Stiles gently, and he hesitated before nodding, sucking in deep lungfuls of air like he was drowning.

Cautiously, I let go of my hold on his hands, lifting my leg and delicately moving off of his waist until I was sitting beside him.

"It happened again, huh?" John asked, though the answer was obvious. Stiles said nothing, nodding as he swallowed thickly. "I'll go get you some water," he offered after a beat, realising sitting there in silence wouldn't do anybody any good.

His footsteps echoed in my sensitive ear as he left the room, glancing back at me unsurely before continuing on down the hall – he still wasn't thrilled with me being in the same house as his son, but there was little he could do to stop me. Stiles remained on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling and panting heavily, sweat dripping down his brow.

"I wish there was something more I could do for you," I murmured as I absently listened to the pipes creak when John turned the tap on downstairs.

"You're already doing it."

I turned my attention back to him, leaning my head on my palm and turning so I hovered over him, keeping a close eye on his expression and his vitals. I reached up, allowing my fingers to gently trail over the clammy skin on his face, halfheartedly connecting all of his freckles together in a pattern.

"Maybe you should stay home tomorrow," I mumbled with a concerned frown, continuing to trace along the moles I loved so much.

"You say that every time this happens," he responded tiredly, brown eyes slipping closed with exhaustion.

"And you say no every time this happens."

He sighed, clearly not in the mood for our usual standard of banter. I didn't say anything more, giving him the space that he needed to recover. John's heavy footsteps echoed on the landing as he returned from the kitchen.

"Here you go," he said needlessly, holding out the glass of chilled water to his exhausted looking son, who took it and gulped it down gladly.

"I'll be okay, dad," he told the sheriff once he was done, placing the empty glass on the bedside table.

"Are you sure? I can stay-"

"Really, I'm fine," he insisted gently, peering up at his dad imploringly. John's gaze flickered to me, distrust in his blue orbs that made my stomach clench with sadness.

"Alright," he finally allowed, however reluctantly. "I'll see you in the morning."

Stiles waited until his father had shut the door behind him to sigh heavily, dropping his head back to his favourite pillow and groaning.

"Come on," I prompted softly, shuffling down until I was settled beside him, my head resting on his chest. "Try and get back to sleep. If you insist on going to school in the morning, you're going to need the energy."

He sighed again, hand moving up so he could run his fingers through my loose raven curls.

Everything in the room fell silent, and instead of the quiet being peaceful, it was deafening. I reached out with my consciousness on instinct, worried that there was something supernatural affecting my boyfriend. I recoiled instantly, being met with a deep, deadly whirlpool of shadows.

"Jules?" Stiles asked worriedly when I flinched away from him like the touch of his skin had burned me.

"Something's wrong," I whispered back, inching closer until my head was placed once more on his chest, but no longer for comfort, but rather so I could get a better listen to his heart. It was pumping slower than it usually did, almost lazily, like it could barely be bothered to beat at all.

I moved back, reaching up to place my hand across his forehead. He went cross-eyed trying to keep his gaze on my pale skin. "Do I have a fever?" he asked with a frown.

"No," I murmured, matching his grave expression. "In fact, you're running cold."

I pulled back, disturbed by the strange differences in my human; most of all the deep, dark sense of evil that seemed to cling to him like a perfume.

"It's nothing," I dismissed quickly, feeling too sick to entertain such dark thoughts. "Go to sleep."

He didn't look convinced, but he was exceptionally tired, so with a reluctant frown he burrowed back under his covers, letting his eyes slide shut. Forcing myself to relax, I curled into him, assuming our usual sleeping position.

Just before I fell asleep, I could hear a voice whispering in the very far corners of my mind. I couldn't tell what it was saying to me, all I knew was that it reminded me of something, something I'd long since tried hard to forget.

* * *

"Well well, look who's no longer the crazy one," Lydia all but sang, bursting delicately through the doors of the school with a pleased smile spread across her ruby red lips.

"We are not crazy," Allison argued flatly.

"Hallucinating, sleep paralysis...yeah, you guys are _fine_."

The trio exchanged uneasy looks. "We did die and come back to life," Scott pointed out. "That's gotta have some side effects, right?"

The bell rang overhead, and all of us glanced up at the ceiling. "We keep an eye on each other, okay?" Stiles told the group bracingly. "And Lydia, stop enjoying this so much," he muttered, frowning accusingly at the redhead before walking past her, leaving me to speed up to keep pace with him.

We stopped by his locker first, and I leant against the blue metal of the locker beside his as he rifled through it for his English book. "So, are we gonna talk about it?" I asked when he slammed the door shut, the sound echoing around the emptying hallway.

"Talk about what?" he responded flatly.

"Your dreams," I said, though I knew he already knew. He didn't speak, shouldering his bag more securely and turning to head down the corridor. "Come on, Stiles," I sighed, easily keeping up with him, my shoes making no sound on the linoleum floor. "You barely said two words the whole drive to school."

He only pressed his lips together more firmly, breathing out sharply through his nose. To distract himself he glanced down at the book in his hands.

"I know it can't be good," I continued. "Otherwise you wouldn't have shut up about it." I glanced over my shoulder to see him standing still, staring down at the book in his hands with something like confusion mixed with terror spread across his face. "Stiles?" I was alarmed by the expression, grateful that the halls were now empty, most students in class. "Stiles!" I barked it this time, and he looked up at me in shock. "What's wrong?" I asked seriously. His eyes flickered back to his textbook, and he sighed heavily.

"Nothing," he said, his abnormally slow heartbeat faltering as he lied. He glanced up at me then, narrowing his eyes as he seemed to observe me in a way he never really had before. "Is this real?"

I was as surprised by the question as I was confused. "What?"

"Right now," he said, not making any more sense. "Is this really happening, or am I dreaming?"

My concern grew, and my brow furrowed as I shuffled closer to the vulnerable kid. "It's real, Stiles," I assured him, even though I wasn't really sure why I had to clarify that.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes roughly, as though trying to clear them.

"Come on," I prompted him much more gently than before. "We're late for class."

English went by with quickly, mostly because I spent the whole time with my attention on Stiles' vitals. He seemed to zone out for most of the lesson, staring unseeingly at the board while the new English teacher – some old bloke with rabbit teeth and a receding hairline – droned on about the book we were meant to read.

Scott was waiting for us as we got out of class, and he eyed Stiles with concern when the kid barely returned his greeting. Before long, curiosity seemed to ignite in my naturally inquisitive boyfriend, and he turned to Scott with a frown.

"So what did you say you were seeing, exactly?" he asked his best friend curiously, glancing over at him as we made our way back towards Stiles' locker so he could pull out his things for the next lesson.

"Shadows," Scott answered vaguely, and Stiles took a moment to shoot him a familiar dubious look. "I know it doesn't sound terrifying, but..."

"I get it," Stiles cut him off, preventing him from having to explain.

The (now alpha) werewolf nodded his head gratefully. "Maybe we need a little more time to get back to normal," he offered hopefully as we reached the locker.

"Yeah, try not to forget that we hit the reset button on a supernatural beacon for supernatural creatures," Stiles murmured to him with a dark scowl. "There's a pretty good chance of things never getting back to normal."

"These things take time," I said, tipping my head back against the blue metal and eyeing the boys closely. "When I first turned I saw heaps of fucked up shit. It's just death being a little bitch because you beat him at his own game."

"Yeah, well..." Stiles trailed off, staring down at the lock in his hand with confused eyes. "What?" he asked himself, ducking closer to the numbers as though he was having trouble reading them. I looked to Scott, hoping the wolf would have something to add, only to see him staring off into the distance distractedly.

"I need a fucking smoke," I muttered to myself grumpily, reaching up to massage my temples.

The statement became ever more true a moment later when Stiles hissed, "Dude, your _eyes_."

I looked up in alarm, spotting Scott's eyes as they were glowing a fierce ruby red. "What about them?" he asked obliviously.

"They're starting to glow!"

"You mean like right now?"

"Yes, right now."

"Fucking hell, teen wolf," I hissed, sliding closer to my canine friend and slipping an arm around his shoulders, forcing him to duck his head, thereby hiding his eyes. "Get ahold of yourself."

"I-I can't control it," Scott whispered worriedly.

"We're going to calmly walk away from the students," I said collectedly as Stiles darted to his other side. "Head down and deep breaths," I added, guiding him through the thick crowd until I reached a classroom door. I shoved it open, relieved when I found it to be empty.

Scott all but dove into the room, tearing off his jacket as he began to hyperventilate. It reminded me of Stiles' panic attack only a few weeks before, but I had a feeling the methods I used for that weren't going to work on this werewolf.

"Get back! Get away from me!" Scott grunted, doubling over as he began to change.

"Stiles, stay away," I agreed as I moved forwards, keeping close to the teen wolf's side, one of my cool hands placed gently on the heated skin of his shoulder. "You're alright," I cooed to Scott, but he wasn't having any of it.

"I don't know what's gonna happen!" he shouted fearfully, looking up and exposing his glowing eyes and canine fangs.

I began to grow more concerned with every breath of air he struggled to inhale. I wasn't an expert on what to do, but there was little time to call one to get a second opinion, so I acted on instinct.

"Sorry about this, Scott," I said, and he glanced up at me in confused only to see my fangs slip into place and my eyes flood with blood. With a grunt I dove forwards, sinking my teeth into the space where his neck met his shoulder. He howled, and I hoped the walls of the room were thick enough to mask the sound.

His blood tasted like dog smelt; not at all appetising. I cringed and snapped my jaws harder, tearing through skin and muscle. Finally Scott collapsed under me, sinking to his knees as he grunted in pain. I removed my mouth from his skin, feeling the blood trickle down my chin as my fangs retreated to my gums.

"What the_ hell_ was that?" Stiles asked, looking vaguely horrified by what had just transpired.

Scott and I seemed to be on the same wavelength. "Pain makes you human," the wolf muttered, pressing one hand to the deep, bleeding wound on his neck. He glanced up at me, a thankful look in his dark eyes. It was a rare day that I was thanked for ripping into someone's throat, but I welcomed it; it was a nice change of pace to be appreciated.

"Scott, this isn't just in our heads," Stiles murmured with a concerned frown. "This is real. It's starting to get bad for me too." I sat back, bringing my hand to my mouth and beginning to wipe at the blood smeared there. "I'm not just having nightmares, I'm having these dreams where I literally have to scream myself awake." My eyebrows pulled together as I watched my human boyfriend with concern, halfheartedly listening to his slow heartbeat. "And sometimes I'm not even sure if I'm actually _waking up_."

I felt a curl of bitterness that Stiles could talk to Scott about this, but not me, but I smothered the petty feelings.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked wearily, the wound on his neck beginning to heal, the skin knitting itself back together.

"You know how you can tell if you're dreaming? You can't read in dreams. More and more over the past few days, I've been having trouble reading. It's like I can't...put the letters in order."

"Like, even now?"

Stiles looked both fearful and reluctant as he climbed to his feet, glancing over at the chalkboard where the quote of the day was written. "I can't read a thing."

* * *

"Jules, thanks for coming," John said when I knocked on his office door, watching me warily as I slipped into the room, hands shoved deep into the pockets of my jeans.

"Am I here as a criminal or a friend?" I asked cautiously, and he paused.

He sighed, running a hand down his aging but handsome face. "I'm making an effort," he told me softly. "For Stiles' sake," he quickly added, making sure I still knew exactly where we stood. "That's why I asked you to come."

"If you don't mind me asking, Sheriff," I began as he shut the door behind me. "Why _did _you ask me to come?"

John and I, while perfectly cordial on most days, weren't exactly at the same place we had been back before he'd found out the truth about me. Things would never be the same now that he knew of all the blood on my hands, and a part of me mourned the loss of a friend.

"I'm going over some old case files, looking for supernatural causes," he told me, moving back around his desk and crouching next to the boxes there that were overflowing with loose pieces of paper. "I could use a more experienced eye."

Frowning, I knelt on the floor opposite him, picking up a file and holding it in my hands. "Isn't this just torturing yourself, in a way?" I asked delicately, running one finger along the spine of the file. "What could this help?"

"I just-" he cut himself off, seeming to consider his words more carefully. "I need to know."

I wanted to argue, but our relationship was tenuous at best right now, and I was willing to do anything to get back into his good books. "Fair enough," I nodded, cracking open the file in my hands and scanning it quickly. "What are we looking for, exactly?"

"I've got a werewolf pile, a kanima pile, a sacrifice pile and that one there," he gestured to a small pile sitting to my left, "would be the vampire pile."

I frowned but didn't comment, holding up the one in my hand. "What about the human pile?"

He pointed to a large stack behind him, and I leaned over, placing the folder on the pile. "How can I tell the difference between werewolf and vampire attacks?" he asked curiously, eyes firmly focused on the papers before him.

"Lot's of ways," I began, picking up another file and cracking it open. "The biggest thing you want to look out for in a vampire case is a severe lack of blood in the victim. Another telltale sign is any witnesses having chunks of their memory missing."

"...because you can control minds."

My lips twitched upwards, "In a manner of speaking."

"I haven't come across many that make me think 'vampire'," he admitted somewhat stonily, and I lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

"Werewolves and other shifters tend to stick close to the west coast, but vampires and witches are more commonly found out east," I told him, quickly tossing a file on the 'sacrifice' pile.

"Why?"

"We don't tend to get along," I told him. "It's best if we stay out of each other's hair."

John looked contemplative for a long minute. "But you're friends with Scott and the Hales," he pointed out with a confused frown.

I snorted before I could stop myself. "Scott, yes," I nodded with a bitter smirk. "The Hales? We just barely tolerate each other."

"So why are you so different from others of your kind?" he asked, and I looked up in mild surprise. "Friends with werewolves, not feeding on people, dating high school students," he listed, keeping his eyes on the task at hand. He sounded somewhat resentful, and guilt clotted in my chest.

"There's this thing that vampires can do," I began to explain, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "We call it a 'switch' that we can flick. Hit that and it turns off your humanity like a light."

"So, other vampires, they don't have...humanity?" he tried to understand. "But you do?"

"Yes," I nodded, the constant uncomfortable tug of pain in my chest reminding me exactly how switched on it was.

"Why you?"

I shrugged again. "I guess I'm just an anomaly."

We were quiet for another few minutes. "What does it look like? To have your humanity just...gone." He looked confused. "How does that work?"

I pursed my lips as I considered how to answer. "Humanity is really just a fancy word for 'feelings'," I told him, current file left forgotten in my lap. "Imagine a human with no guilt. No sadness, no remorse or shame or discretion." I sighed, hoping I didn't sound as wistful as I felt. "The only thing we can feel in that state are the primal things; hunger, pleasure, rage." I glanced over at him to find him already watching me. "Imagine all of that, with enhanced strength, speed and senses, coupled with an insatiable bloodlust."

"That sounds like a nightmare," John murmured, horror showing on his face.

I winced, staring back down at the file. "Yeah," I lied through clenched teeth. "A nightmare."

The door cracked open, surprising me, and as the air whooshed through the room, I caught the familiar chocolatey/minty scent of Stiles, along with the sweet scent that all flowers carried.

"You know the last time we brought one of these to her grave, it was stolen the same day," Stiles said, eyes on the bouquet in his hands as he shuffled into the room. "A hundred bucks, down the drain."

Finally he looked up, meeting my eyes as his brows raised in sheer surprise.

"Jules?" he asked, as though he wasn't sure. I lifted my hand from the file I was scanning, wiggling my fingers at him in greeting. His eyes flickered down to where his father was elbow deep in a box of files. "Dad?" he asked cautiously. "What're you doing down there? And why is Juliet with you?"

"We're working," the Sheriff responded succinctly.

"Dad, what is all this?" he questioned, not letting him get away with the one word answer.

"We're looking over some old cases from a more...illuminated perspective...if you know what I mean."

Stiles took a moment to open a folder, reading the text inside, "strange sighting of bipedal-lizard-man sprinting across freeway."

"Kanima pile."

He dropped the file onto the pile. "And Jules is completing this task with you because...?"

"I needed a more experienced eye," he said, glancing up at his son. "Doesn't get more experienced than 300 years," he said the words sardonically, making my stomach churn.

"200," I corrected, hoping it would make a slight difference. The Sheriff merely shot me an annoyed look. "It's not important," I backtracked, waving the words off and leaning back against the wall, going back to scanning the file before me.

"Dad, you're not going back through all your old cases and seeing if any of them had to do with the supernatural, are you?" Stiles asked when the uncomfortable silence got too much to bare.

"I tried to tell him," I singsonged from across the room, keeping my eyes firmly on the words in front of me.

"I admit that the recent opening of my eyes to the greater mysteries of the universe has got me reassessing. There are at least a hundred cases here where I can look at the details and I can ask myself: if I knew then what I know now..."

"Are you sure you wanna go down that path?" Stiles asked reproachfully.

"Do I have a choice?" John countered darkly. "There's this one case in particular that I can't get out of my head. Eight years ago, when I was elected Sheriff of the county, my first official duty was to tell a man that not only had his wife and two kids died in a car accident, but as best we could tell, the body of his nine-year-old daughter had been dragged from the wreck by coyotes."

"You mean dragged and eaten?" Stiles asked as I placed another folder on the werewolf pile, and this time I kept myself from making a remark.

"We didn't find the car until three days after the crash," John said, eyes clouded and distant, clearly seeing something we couldn't. "They had driven off the road into a pretty deep ravine, the two bodies that were still in the car were covered in bites and slashes."

"So you're thinking probably a werewolf attack," Stiles deduced with a nod, staring down at the file in his hands. "But coyotes, they scavenge, right? So couldn't they have just left the bites and the slashes?"

"Absolutely," by now I had abandoned my task, full attention on the father and son standing by the desk. "But guess what night the accident occurred on."

"...the night of a full moon," Stiles sighed in realisation. He paused, seeming to consider something. "Hey dad, where're all these going?" he asked, eyeing the boxes covering every surface of the room.

"Yeah, we probably need to talk about that," the Sheriff responded, and I could instantly tell by the tone that it was a conversation they needed to be alone for.

"If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call, Sheriff," I told John as I climbed to my feet. I moved over to Stiles' side, reaching for his hand and squeezing it as I leaned in to him. "I'll be waiting out by the Jeep," I promised, and he nodded absently, swooping down to peck my cheek in farewell. I turned around, nodding at John politely before slipping from the room.

"See you, Juliet!" a nice lady at the front desk said with a smile, but I didn't know her name – or how she knew mine, for that matter – so I merely forced a smile onto my lips and stepped out into the cool autumn air.

Instantly my fingers sought out the cigarettes in my pocket, and I slipped one between my lips and lifted my lighter to the tip. The smoke was hot and harsh on my throat, which immediately began healing as soon as the minimal damage was done.

I was on my second stick when someone passed me on the street. It was a girl, probably younger than Stiles. She had her head down with headphones in her ears, nodding along to the beat, skin pale in the light from the streetlamp she passed under. Pulling the smoke from my lips, I couldn't help but inhale, salivating at the sweet, fruity scent that followed her.

My mind swam to forbidden places, images of me walking up to her, looking into her eyes and telling her not to scream. I imagined running my tongue along her throat, tasting the sweet but salty flavour of her skin before sinking my fangs into her neck, holding her still as she struggled to get away.

"Jules?!"

The girl was gone, and Stiles was standing right in front of me, a worried expression on his handsome features; clearly that hadn't been the first time he's called my name.

"You okay?" he asked warily, eyes flickering over me in concern.

"Fine," I told him, only partially lying. "Come on," I said, dropping what was left of my cigarette and stepping on it heavily. "You look like you could use some sleep."

It looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do, but I wasn't surprised.

I didn't want to go to sleep either.

In the car he sighed, and when I asked what was wrong, he began to tell me all about what his father had told him.

Mr-dick-bag-McCall was, essentially, trying to the Sheriff fired. While things were still tense between Stiles' dad and I, the last thing I wanted was for the man to lose the job he loved. I tried to comfort my boyfriend, leaning across the console and resting my head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my forehead then fell silent, both of us too wrapped up in our thoughts to do any talking.

* * *

"Something's wrong with Stiles."

I looked up from the donut I was tearing apart, raising an eyebrow at the concerned looking teen wolf. He looked serious, however, so I dusted my cinnamon covered hands off on my old leather pants and stood from the floor by the lockers where I was eating my lunch – human style. "What happened this time?" I asked softly, making sure the group of passing freshmen couldn't overhear.

"We were in Economics and he seemed _really_ out of it – didn't even notice Coach calling his name. He was scribbling in his notebook, and his heart was beating too slowly. When I looked over at what he'd been writing, it just said 'wake up' repeated probably a hundred times on the page."

I frowned worriedly, glancing over my shoulder where I could see my human heading towards us. "I'll keep a closer eye on him," I swore, and Scott nodded in agreement.

"Come on," Stiles said when he reached us. "We're meeting the others outside."

Lydia, Isaac and Allison had claimed a table on the lawn. We headed towards them, Stiles and Scott sliding onto the bench opposite the trio. I let my bag drop to the ground, hopping onto the end of the table with ease, folding my legs under me so I was sitting comfortably and could see all of our little makeshift pack.

"Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?" Scott began, the reason for the gathering clear.

"And is unable to tell what's real or not," Stiles continued, free hand coming up to rest on my knee, beginning to draw random patterns on the thin leather material.

"And being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives," Allison added, running a finger over her peachy lips.

"They're all locked up because they're insane," Isaac deadpanned, and I snorted in amusement at the comment.

"Can you at least _try_ to be helpful?" Stiles sneered in annoyance. "Please."

"For half of my childhood I was locked in a freezer, so being helpful is kind of a new thing for me."

"Are we still milking that?"

"We are still milking that, yeah."

I grinned at the squabble, only for a new, unfamiliar voice to speak up. "Hey," a girl stepped up to us. I raised an eyebrow at the new person, not many new people dared come up to us in such a bold way, and she screamed 'shy'. "Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing what you guys were talking about...and I think I actually might know what you're...talking about," she said as though she'd surprised herself.

She suddenly went quiet, like she wasn't sure she should continue. "If you have something to add, then please, by all means..." I prompted her, not quite kindly, and she looked even more uncomfortable. Scott shot me a frown, but I wasn't bothered.

"There's a Tibetan word for it, it's called _Bardo,_" the new girl finally told us, something like hope on her pretty oriental features. "It literally means _in between state;_ The state between life and death."

"...and what do they call you?" Lydia asked icily, glancing up at the girl with a critical eye. I watched her closely, observing her reactions.

"Kira," Scott said suddenly, and even I turned to look at him. "She's in our history class," he explained at our dubious looks.

"So are we talking about _Bardo_ in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?" Lydia asked Kira, narrowing her eyes in challenge.

"Either I guess," she responded eagerly, even go as far as to take a seat in the spot beside Stiles, looking around at us all with hopeful eyes. "But all the stuff you guys were just saying; all that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations, some you see, some you just hear, and you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities."

"Wrathful deities," Isaac parroted, pointing at her with his pen. "And what are those?"

"Like...demons," Kira answered cheerily, a large grin on her lips that greatly contrasted the general air hovering around the pack.

"Demons!" Stiles repeated, glancing up at me with a bitter smirk. "Why not?"

"Hang on," Allison spoke up, warily. "If there are different progressive states then what's the last one?"

"Death," Kira told us with a bright smile. "You die."

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter is a big one, but here's a teaser to tide you over:**

_The urge was too strong, too powerful for me to control. I needed it, more than I needed anything else in this world. _

**I'll let you guys stew over what she could be talking about. I'll see you in the next chapter! Leave me a review and let me know your thoughts.**


	50. After Midnight

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, nor does this fanfiction earn me any kind of profit.**

**A/N: I definitely recommend listening to the song this chapter is named after, great band and fantastic song that suits this story really well! I hope you guys like this chapter, it wasn't very easy to write, and I have a feeling some of you are going to be a little less than pleased with me...**

* * *

_Cuz nothin' good comes after midnight_

_Ain't no good love comes from pain_

_Nothing good comes after midnight_

_When you play the devil's game_

_After midnight_

After Midnight – DOROTHY

* * *

The next step was obvious; we had to pay a visit to our local witchdoctor.

Getting to Deaton's clinic was easy, but once we were there, explaining the situation was slightly more difficult than expected. And the explanation was only more confusing.

"When is a door not a door?" the veterinarian asked us calmly once Stiles had shown him the sign language from his vision.

"When is a door not a door?" Stiles snarled dubiously, staring at the doctor like he wanted to kick him.

"If we wanted to speak in riddles, we would have gone to Dr Seuss," I retorted with a scowl, leather of my jacket creaking as I folded my arms over my chest.

Scott was the one who spoke up, much to our surprise. "When it's ajar."

"My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?" my boyfriend asked incredulously.

"Not necessarily," Deaton shook his head. "When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to a sort of super-consciousness, you essentially opened a door in your minds."

The boys exchanged apprehensive looks. "Okay, so what does that mean?" Scott asked with a worried frown. "The door's still open?"

"A door...into our minds?" Stiles sounded skeptical.

"Juliet is probably the best example," the good doctor continued, gesturing to me. I looked up in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "When you compel someone," he began to explain, talking to me but obviously for the benefit of the boys. "The reason you can get into their subconscious is because you have the ability – usually through the use of eye contact – to open a door into their minds, allowing you inside so you can...influence them...rearrange things, if you will."

"What're you saying?" Stiles asked warily.

"I'm saying the same process has happened to you, only in a more...permanent way." Deaton paused, having the decency to look sympathetic. "I did tell you it was risky," he added with a twist of his mouth.

"What do we do about it?" Scott questioned.

"That's...difficult to answer."

"Wait a second, I know that look!" Stiles exclaimed, levelling the doctor with an unimpressed glare. "That's the 'I-know-exactly-what's-wrong-with-you-and-have-no-idea-how-to-fix-it' look."

"One thing I do know is that having an opening like that into your mind? It's not good. You each need to close that door, and you need to do it as soon as possible."

"Well, what about Jules?" Scott spoke up, turning to glance at me hopefully.

"What about Jules?" I asked with a raised eyebrow, turning to look at my canine friend curiously.

"If she has the ability to open these...doors, doesn't that mean she has the ability to shut them too?"

Deaton frowned deeply. "It doesn't work that way." At Scott's defeated look, he elaborated. "Even if her ability did work on werewolves, it's a very delicate balance up there," he said, reaching up to tap Scott's forehead. "We don't want anyone, no matter how skilled they may be, poking around in your head."

Scott's shoulders hunched, and his lips pulled down tiredly. "Come on," I said, instinct to look after my coven more pressing than anything else. "You need sleep," I took a moment to glance at Stiles. "Both of you."

"I'll call if I come up with anything," Deaton vowed, and we nodded before saying goodnight and filing from the room. I caught up with Stiles, slipping my hand into his and curling our fingers together. He shot me a smile, but the expression was drawn, leaving me worried.

Before we even got to the car, a familiar cruiser pulled up outside the animal clinic, making all three of us pause where we stood as the Sheriff climbed out of his car. "Dad, what're you doing here?" Stiles asked with a frown.

"I'm here because...I could use some help," John told us, eyes shifting between us warily before finally settling on Scott. "Actually...your help," he amended his statement.

"Why me?" Scott asked, looking as bewildered as I felt.

"Because eight years ago almost an entire family died in a car accident. One of the bodies, a young girl named Malia, was never found," the Sheriff began, but instead of answering my questions it only gave me more. "There's enough evidence to have me thinking that..." he hesitated. "That a werewolf could have caused the accident and then dragged her body away."

"I don't understand," I admitted, my brows furrowed in confusion.

"If you could somehow get a lock on her scent, if you could somehow help me find her body, it might provide the missing clue," he explained quietly, the hope in his tone unmistakeable as his eyes stayed locked on the boys.

"And what if it _was_ a werewolf?" Stiles countered tiredly.

"Well then there's someone out there that murdered an entire family," he responded darkly. "Someone who still needs to be caught."

"You want us to track a scent that's over eight years old?" I asked dubiously, blinking in shock at the request.

"I want Scott to try," he nodded his head, and I got the message loud and clear: I wasn't invited to help. "Is it possible?"

I paused a beat before answering, mostly out of annoyed spite, "Well, it isn't _impossible_."

"How are we going to get her scent to begin with?" Scott asked, trying to understand the plan.

"If I can distract the living father, perhaps you could, I don't know...sneak in through the back of his house and find something with her scent on it?"

If the boys were surprised that the Sheriff was asking them to commit a felony, they weren't showing it. "I suppose so," the werewolf murmured, and John nodded his head.

"How about we meet at the house tomorrow and go from there," he suggested simply.

"I'll come over to your's in the morning," Scott agreed, and John nodded gratefully. "See you then, Sheriff," he promised, smiling once more in his direction before hopping onto his bike and starting the engine with a tinny rumble, turning out onto the main road.

"I'll drive Jules back, then I'll meet you at home for dinner?" Stiles asked his dad, and the man nodded again, shooting me an unsure, weak smile and heading back for his own cruiser and driving away. "He'll come around eventually," my human boyfriend assured me with a tired sigh. "I mean, he invited you to his office a few days ago, right? That's gotta be progress."

"Only because he needed something from me," I mumbled as I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Stiles clamoured up behind the wheel and started the engine, the cab of the Jeep filling with warm, musty air from the vents.

"He just needs time to come to terms with the fact that you're-"

"A serial killer?"

Stiles hesitated. "I was going to say 'vampire'."

I scoffed self-deprecatingly, bitterness filling me, "Exactly the same thing."

Stiles sighed again, and I immediately felt guilty for sounding so hostile.

"Sorry," I apologised flatly, trying not to think about how it was really just empty words, no real remorse behind them. "I'm tired and..." I trailed off, having started speaking without being sure of what I'd been planning to say.

"It can't be easy," he nodded from where he sat, turning the heat up a few notches and resting one hand on the wheel, the other propped up on the door. "Having him be so..."

"Hateful?" I finished for him, and he winced.

"It'll all work itself out," he assured me quietly, but I could tell he didn't even believe himself.

The rest of the drive was made in silence, and finally he pulled into my driveway. I was still feeling frosty and bitter on the inside, so instead of saying a proper goodbye, I pecked him unfeelingly on the cheek and murmured a farewell, telling him I'd see him tomorrow and slipping from the car.

I made my way up to my front door, listening to the sound of him idling in the driveway. I could tell he was trying to decide whether to follow me or not. I hoped my tense posture kept him away, I needed all the space I could get right now.

After a long, drawn out minute, I heard the car whirr as he reversed and took off down the road. I paused where I was at my front door, key in the lock but not having been turned yet. I stayed frozen, vampire vision making the shadows non-existent.

I didn't want to go inside my quiet house and drink a bag full of refrigerated blood and listen to the same six jazz records on repeat like I did every night. I didn't want to have a bath that smelled of lavender and roses, and I didn't want to stay up late reading a novel I'd read eight times before.

I was sick of the mundane routine, it was boring.

It was like there was an itch in my gut, I was longing for things I hadn't longed for in far too long. My nose craved the scent of smoke and whiskey, and my ears yearned for the throbbing of bass and screech of guitar strings and wet thump of racing hearts.

I didn't want to relapse; I wasn't _going_ to relapse. There was nothing wrong with going out for a few hours, I'd been couped up for far too long anyhow.

I slipped the key out of my lock, shoving the keyring into my back pocket, checking I had my phone and wallet before turning around and heading back out into the night.

The closest bar was only a few blocks from my house. I'd been there once or twice, it was cute. There was an old-fashioned jukebox in the corner that played 70s rock and a dartboard on the far wall, surrounded by little holes where drunk people had greatly missed the target.

It was half full when I stepped in, mostly men on their way home from work. There was some kind of sporting game on the TV behind the bar, and a small crowd of blokes sat opposite it, staring in rapture and every now and then screaming obscenities at the players.

I was dressed appropriately for the kind of place it was, my black jeans and old _Rolling Stones _shirt letting me blend in with the crowd. A few heads turned to look at me when I entered, but most went back to their conversations. I took the tie out of my hair, letting my long raven locks fall freely down my back. I reached into my pocket, holding the button to turn my phone off. I wasn't in the mood to be _on_ _call_ in case of supernatural emergency and/or warfare.

I took a seat at the bar – as far away from the sport fanatics as possible – catching the young bartender's attention instantly and ordering a whiskey. He grinned at me, pouring the drink with a flourish and adding a little umbrella before sliding it to me with a wink. The moment his back was turned I tossed the umbrella onto the floor and rolled my eyes, throwing back the drink without so much as blinking.

What was I even doing here?

I stared around the room, trying to figure out why I'd come here at all. They were playing some kind of cheery punk rock from the jukebox, and I wasn't getting any attention – not that I wanted any, I corrected myself, thinking of Stiles.

Just as these thoughts crossed my mind, somebody slipped into the seat next to me. He was older, with greying hair at his temples and intelligent hazel eyes. His scent washed over me, he smelled of bourbon, cigars and sea salt, making my mouth water. I hadn't realised I was so hungry.

"Aren't you a little young to be here?" he asked me playfully, and I chuckled in pure amusement at the question, not missing the way his old heart stuttered in response to the sound.

"You have no idea," I responded smoothly once I'd gained control of myself.

"What's your name, beautiful?"

I appraised him carefully, trying my hardest to ignore the thrilling pull in my gut, that instinct that was telling me to kill him. "Candice," I lied with all the ease in the world.

"Nice to meet you, Candice," he said with a leery grin that he probably meant to be charming. "I'm Matthew."

I snorted, waving at the bartender for another drink. "I knew a Matthew recently," I told him with a smirk. "He turned out to be an evil bastard." I paused, watching the young man prepare my next drink. "Well, I suppose 'evil' _is_ quite relative, isn't it?" I mused with a purse of my lips.

"Relative to what?"

"To where you yourself sit on the scale," I murmured, taking my drink and this time slowly sipping it, trying not to think of the disgust with which the Sheriff looked upon me.

"Are you saying you're a bad girl?" 'Matthew' asked me in a way he probably thought was smooth, leaning closer to me and smiling, revealing shiny white teeth.

I smirked widely, moving in closer, eyes bright with mischief. "You have _no_ idea," I repeated with my signature impish smirk, showing all of my own pearly white, glistening and _incredibly _sharp teeth, and for a moment his heart stuttered for a reason other than arousal.

The sound of the blood in his veins snapped me out of my stupor and I wrenched myself back, realising exactly what it was that I was doing. I wasn't cheating on Stiles, of course I wasn't, so then why did it feel like I may as well have been?

Recovered from my moment of panic, I sat back, throwing down the rest of my drink and then leaving enough money to cover them along with a nice tip before slipping off the barstool. "Have a good night, Matthew," I said politely, ignoring how shellshocked he appeared as I turned and left the bar.

I could tell the night air was cool – of course it was, since it was Autumn – but it didn't affect me, and while people walking past were wearing thick coats, I was merely in my tee shirt. I shoved my hands into my pockets and started back towards my house. I was only a minute down the road when I heard heavy footsteps on the pavement, heading in my direction.

"Go back inside, Matthew," I told the older gentlemen, more of a warning than he knew.

"Come on, doll," he said with what sounded like a smile in his voice, though I didn't bother to look back and find out. "Come back and have another drink."

"No, thank you," I said through a clenched jaw, speeding up my footsteps.

He was drunker than I had originally thought him to be, and he stumbled forwards, clumsily grasping my arm and forcefully dragging me into a small alcove that couldn't be seen from the street. "I'll make it worth your while, sweet cheeks," he told me with a leer at my chest.

He leaned in closer, sniffing my throat in a way I'd find creepy if I wasn't already the definition of the word. Little did he know that this gave me a perfect chance to take a whiff of his delicious, if not slightly sweaty, scent.

That heavy, salty and smoky scent invaded my senses. I grit my teeth when my gums tingled, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my skin and made my palms bleed.

"Go back inside, Matthew," I told him again, barking the words roughly, my voice raspy with need.

He leaned closer again, even go as far as to stick out his tongue and lick at my jaw in a way that made me physically sick. "Come on," he goaded. "$200?" he offered, and I would have felt offended, but it wasn't the first time I'd been propositioned in such a way, and in this day and age, it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Leave," I snarled harshly, fists tightening to the point that my knuckles cracked under the pressure.

He tilted his head to the side, exposing the column of his throat. Before I could stop them my fangs had descended, pressing into my lower lip. I felt my eyes flood with blood, and I tried so hard to stop them. My nostrils flared in panic and tears filled my eyes. The urge was too strong, too powerful for me to control. I needed it, more than I needed anything else.

Before I knew what had happened, my fangs were sinking into his throat and he gave a pained cry. I covered his mouth with my hand, tearing into his jugular, ripping it open with all the ease of a lion munching on a deer. Blood spilled down his front, staining my clothes as well, but I couldn't have cared less. I gripped him tighter, sucking as hard as I could, barely giving myself enough time to swallow the blood as it pooled in my mouth.

I couldn't stop myself. I tried to pull back, I tried _so hard_, but I just kept drinking as though I hadn't eaten in weeks, like I was a dehydrated man in the desert. I didn't stop until it was far too late, the older man's body slumping in my grip, all the life sucked from him.

Only once the blood stopped coming did I pull away. I dropped the corpse to the ground, hyperventilating even as I licked my lips, trying to get every drop of blood I possibly could.

I knew the panic was about to come; it was only momentarily put off by the surge of power the blood had given me. Instinct took over, actions programmed into me centuries ago happening like clockwork. It was dark and late, so I knew people weren't likely to see the blood. I held the corpse up at my side, as though he were a drunk friend I was helping home.

I went quickly, the entrance to the forest not even a block away, just around the corner. As soon as we were in the cover of the trees I threw the body over my shoulder, rushing deeper into the woods.

I went to an old campsite by the river, one I usually passed on my walk to school. The body slipped from my shoulder, landing on the ground with a sickening _crunch_, bones cracking under the deadweight.

My hyperventilating – which hadn't stopped since it had started – got more intense. What the fuck was I doing? What the _fuck_ had I _done_?

I let myself drop to my knees, a sob wracking through my body that made my chest ache. I'd ruined everything, I'd broken my own vow. I'd _killed_ somebody _innocent_. I'd never hated myself so intensely. Another sob tore through me and my eyes stung so I shut them as tightly as I could. I felt bile rise in my throat but I painstakingly swallowed it down, refusing to allow myself to throw up.

"Get it together," I hissed at myself furiously, voice cracking and my hands shaking. "Get. It. _Together_."

I forced my eyes open, heightened sight cutting through the darkness to peer at the corpse, throat completely torn out, cloudy hazel eyes staring unseeingly at the stars.

I slammed my eyes shut again when another wave of nausea rolled through me. "I'm sorry," I murmured, bowing my head in remorse, no idea who I was actually apologising to – the only person with me was dead and therefore couldn't hear a word I was saying.

Maybe I was apologising to God; that would make sense, right?

I sobbed once more, chest aching painfully before I once more opened my eyes and forced myself to my feet. I took a cigarette from my pocket, sniffling pathetically as I brought my lighter up to the tip and lit it, inhaling instantly, though the usually-calming chemicals made little difference.

I stared up at the stars, hoping the beauty would distract me from the sickening act I now had to do. With a disgusted grunt I crouched down once I had properly psyched myself up, igniting the flame and lighting the edge of his clothes. It would take a while because I didn't have any kind of petrol or alcohol to help the process. I held the flame over the wounds on his neck, getting rid of the evidence of vampirism.

A skilled medical examiner would be able to see the damage through the char, but I wasn't planning on the remains every getting examined by one. Once the body was sufficiently lit, I kicked at the mouth with all the force I had, shattering the jawbone and knocking out most of the teeth. I reached into the now-dry cavity, pulling out a handful of the loose teeth, turning around and throwing them roughly into the forest, scattering them in the rusty fallen leaves.

I pulled the cigarette from my mouth with two fingers, blowing the smoke out in rings as I past the time. The body continued to burn. We were far enough in the forest, and the fire was small enough, that it was unlikely anyone would see the smoke. Even if somebody did come to investigate, I'd hear them from miles away, giving me plenty of warning.

The sun had long since risen when the body was finally no more than a charred skeleton, and I spent a long time staring into the trees, enjoying the misty, dewy air that clung to the forest. The pain sat like an anvil in my gut, and my arms ached with the shock. I leant down, picking up the flaky, smoky remains and holding them out in front of me, walking only a few paces away until I reached the bank of the river.

With one great toss the corpse was tossed into the water, sinking almost instantly.

I stood still, making sure it didn't reappear as I stuck another cigarette between my teeth, lighting it and taking a drag with a sigh, eyes stinging.

I'd thought this aspect of my life was over, when I woke up yesterday this was the absolute last way I'd imagined spending my night. I felt guilty, ashamed, remorseful and pathetic.

Suddenly a memory flitted through my mind.

"_I'm not going to switch off your humanity...You're going to spend a week with me, and then you're going to do it yourself._"

Kol.

"That stupid, God-damn, asshole, motherfucking _Original bastard_," I seethed out loud, spinning around and sending my fist into the nearest tree trunk. The wood splintered under the force of my hit, and after a beat I went back to staring broodily into the distance and taking long drags of my smoke.

I finally understood what he meant. In that God-forsaken week of memory that was taken from me, I knew I'd done similar acts. I couldn't remember them, but of course they had a physical effect that I hadn't considered before now.

My tolerance to blood was lowered. I'd spent years building up this resilience, spent years learning how to train my body to say no to the call of the blood. That's what had happened in the missing week, I'd lost my tolerance, and that didn't mean anything good.

Kol was right about one thing, I _did_ want to turn off my humanity. The emotions were crushing me. I felt like I couldn't physically function. The shame, the pain, the guilt; it was all too much for me to bear. I'd never wanted to feel _nothing_ more in my whole life.

I stopped myself, the thought of Stiles keeping me from going over that particular ledge.

What was I going to tell him?

The answer hit me like a tonne of bricks. I _wasn't_ going to tell him.

The thought of lying to him made me want to throw up again, but I didn't really have a choice. He couldn't know. He'd hate me, almost as much as _I _hated _me._

I sniffled again, teary eyed as I finished off my cigarette and tossed what remained into the river, turning around and legging it to the house.

Thankfully it was empty when I got there, and I slipped through the back, tossing my bloodied clothes into the fireplace and lighting it (yet another thing I had to burn today) before turning up the stairs and instantly sliding into the shower.

The water was as hot as it could go, and it still wasn't hot enough.

No matter what I did, I still didn't feel clean. I scrubbed at my skin until it was red, then kept scrubbing once the red had healed.

Once I was dressed in a new pair of jeans and an old sweater that had bits of cotton hanging from the sleeves, I finally turned my phone back on, realising that it was later in the day than I'd thought it was. Stiles had called four times, and texted me five. Apparently he'd come to get me for the Sheriff's plan today, but I'd obviously not been here.

Just another thing to feel guilty about.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" was the first thing Stiles asked when I appeared at his window, sitting precariously on the edge of his windowsill. He rushed over to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into the room. I went with him slightly reluctantly, feeling dirty and unworthy of his touch.

"I had some errands to run," I lied, pulling myself from his arms once my feet were on the floor, refusing to acknowledge the shame curdling in my gut. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he said instantly, though he was frowning at the distance I'd put between us. "I was worried though."

"How did things go?" I asked, glancing out the window at the setting sun, changing the subject before he could notice the guilt written clear as day on my face. "Did Scott find the scent?"

He sagged, disappointment obvious in his voice. "No," he told me with furrowed brows.

"It's been too long," I said knowingly, and he nodded sadly. "You know, I can compel Scott's father," I suggested gently, almost desperate for a way to make up for something he didn't even know had happened. "I can get him to back off of your dad."

"Even if you did, there are other people the FBI could send," he murmured defeatedly, shaking his head and rubbing his temples tiredly. "You can't shut down the whole operation altogether."

He had a point, and I sighed drowsily. "You're right," I admitted with a frown. "Can't fight the system on my own."

There was a pause, and Stiles seemed to hesitate before speaking. "You look tired," he finally said, and I winced.

I _was_ tired. Exhausted, actually. I felt like I was about to pass out, my need for Stiles to think I was alright the only thing holding me together. "Dead on my feet," I joked, forcing myself to wink. He rolled his eyes, and if I didn't know better I would think everything was okay but I _did_ know better, and everything was _not_ okay.

Stiles could sense it too, I could tell he did. Guilt – an emotion I'd never loathed more – churned in my gut, but I fought through it, unable to help myself as I reached down, grasping the hem of my worn sweater and tugging it up and over my head, the loose knot of hair at the nape of my neck coming undone, raven waves cascading down my shoulders gently.

"I thought you were tired," Stiles said warily, eyeing me like he wasn't sure what to make of me.

I forced my lips up into a smirk and I glanced down at the simple nude bra that was clinging to my breasts. "So help wake me up."

There was this gaping hole in my chest, a grief that wouldn't go away – it needed to be filled, and I couldn't think of a better way than by having sex with Stiles. I had to do _something_, I needed him _inside_ me, I was desperate, hoping he would somehow be able to heal what was so very damaged in there.

"I'm pretty tired myself," he mumbled as he looked away, and a cold, stinging rejection filled me, instead of any kind of bliss.

I felt ashamed, like I was no more than a pathetic slut – which, I had been at one point or another over the years anyway, so it wasn't that much of a leap. "Yeah," I nodded immediately, swiping my sweater from the floor and making sure it was the right way around before slipping it over my head.

I got the feeling that the real reason Stiles was saying no was because he knew something was seriously wrong – he knew I was keeping something from him. But how, _how_ could I tell him that I'd...fallen off the wagon, as it were?

How could I do it without breaking down and pleading for forgiveness I didn't deserve? How could I do it without feeling so sickened by myself that I wanted to feel nothing once more? Without taking the step I couldn't take back and flicking that famous little switch inside myself?

Stiles must have been able to see the pain in my expression, and his heart stuttered. He took a step forwards, hand outstretched like he wanted to reach for me, when footsteps echoed on the wooden staircase.

I stepped away from him like I was about to be caught doing something I shouldn't have, confusing him, and a moment later Scott burst into the room.

"Scott?" Stiles asked his best friend, worry clear on his gorgeous face. "What's going on?"

"We're going to go out and find a body," the werewolf told us, brandishing a flashlight like it was a sword. "A _dead_ body."

Falling back on my dark humour, I couldn't help myself from forcing a smirk and murmuring sarcastically, "I'm glad you clarified that, teen wolf, I thought you meant a body of _water_."

Scott paused for a long moment, then a massive smile spread across his face. Stiles' heart stuttered again, and I looked over at him, awaiting an explanation. "Stiles said almost the exact same thing at the start of the year, the night when we met," the teen wolf – alpha, I corrected myself – told me. "I guess you guys really are meant to be."

He said the words offhandedly, a bright smile on his lips, like he was telling us something we should be happy about. Ordinarily I'd be thrilled, but with the sudden inexplicable (that was a lie, there was _definitely _an explanation – it was me; it was _my_ fault) space between us made it somewhat awkward.

Scott looked confused by our reactions, but ultimately decided not to comment, instead gesturing to the door. "I'll let you get ready. Meet me downstairs as soon as you can," he said, shooting us a final suspicious look before letting the door creak shut and heading down the steps.

We were silent for a long moment after the wolf had disappeared, before he finally turned to me, a wary, unsure look in those honey brown eyes that I loved so very much. "Are you up for it?" he asked me in concern.

"We'll swing by my place," I assured him with a – once again – forced smile. "I'll fill my tank and be good to go."

He looked unsure, but quickly changed into jeans and threw a flannel over his shirt.

We met Scott downstairs, and though he'd driven his bike here, we decided all to take the Jeep instead of travelling alone. "So we're looking for the body of that girl, trying to solve dad's case?" Stiles asked excitedly.

"Yeah, that's the plan," Scott nodded with the usual happy grin. He turned to look at me properly. "You look wiped," he said as we pulled out onto the main road in the general direction of my house. "Are you sure you don't want to just sit this one out?"

That was the second time I'd been told how wrecked I appeared, and the thought made me cringe. "I'm fine," I assured the alpha, turning around in the passenger seat to face him. "Just had a long day."

"Where were you today, by the way?" he asked as though he'd just remembered I hadn't been there with them.

"Errands, you know how it is; busy, busy," I lied again with a dismissive wave of my hand, and though he looked skeptical by my halfhearted answer, I had no heartbeat to prove that it was a lie.

A few short minutes later Stiles pulled the Jeep into my driveway.

It was dark enough and late enough that I didn't need to worry about exposure. "I'll be back in a second," I told the boys, cracking the door and flying into my house. I was back in the car before the car door had even completely finished swinging open, my lips wrapped around the straw of a blood bag.

"Wow," Stiles murmured thoughtfully. "You really meant that 'second' thing."

I didn't have it in me to wink at him, so I forced my lips to tip up for the millionth time, deciding to stay silent as I settled back into my seat, quietly having a late – well, it definitely wasn't dinner, and I definitely wasn't drinking it because I was hungry. I was more than full from my...

_Slip up_, I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to force the (un)pleasant memories out of my head. The only real reason I was drinking this refrigerated blood was to get the intoxicating taste of the fresh stuff out of my mind.

My eyes didn't open again until we pulled up onto the reserve, slipping the now-empty bag onto the ground under my seat.

Without a word Stiles turned off the car, hopping out of his beloved Jeep and locking the doors once we were all on the ground.

"We'll split up," I said, more because I needed space than for any real tactical advantage.

"Okay, you go that way, I'll go this way and Scott can go-"

"Scott's staying with you," I cut my boyfriend off, and he looked at me abruptly, blinking in surprise at my sharp, commanding words.

"Uh-"

"You know better than most what kind of dangers lurk in the shadows," I told him gently. "I'm not letting your unwittingly _human_ ass stumble around the forest without someone supernatural on hand to get you out of trouble."

"Did you just call me ignorant?" Stiles asked, sounding mildly offended. He turned to Scott, expression indignant. "She just called me ignorant."

"I think she said _unwitting_," Scott answered, looking awkward.

"Which is a synonym of _ignorant_."

"Um, I'd rather not get involved," the teen wolf murmured uncomfortably.

"Just go west," I told them venomously, lips twisted into an ugly and irritated scowl. "I'll go north. Stay within shouting distance," I added, tapping my ear pointedly and locking eyes with Scott. He nodded and without another word I turned and faded into the shadows, slipping through the trees and barrelling forwards, focusing everything I had on finding that body, even though all I wanted to do was crawl into the deep dark hole where I belonged and sob the night away.

I didn't stray far enough that I couldn't hear the boys' conversation, but I hummed to cover the sound of their words, I didn't want to know what they were talking about; I was too afraid it would be me.

I didn't catch any scents that were out of place, and my perfect vision slipped over the fallen logs and underbrush without coming across a hint of human remains, or the remains of a crashed vehicle. The smell of coyote clung to everything, and I crinkled my nose at the stench.

A loud howl echoed around the forest, and I knew it had come from the animal I was thinking about. I heard Stiles gasp and jump in fright, and though I knew it was stupid, I was by their side in the blink of an eye, looking over the human for damage.

"I'm fine," Stiles told me instantly, hands held up as though it were proof. "I just hate coyotes," he added, cringing into the darkness as Scott shuffled down a steep incline to retrieve his phone, which was glowing from under the surface of a large puddle. "They always sound like they're mauling some kind of helpless little animal."

Stiles hesitated where he stood above Scott and I, clearly contemplating how to get down without making a fool of himself. With a fond roll of my eyes I held out a hand, my pale skin ethereal and glowing in the moonlight.

"You know, in a perfect world, _I'd_ be the big strong vampire helping _you, _the damsel in distress, get down from a ledge," he grumbled, taking my hand and allowing me to balance him as he stumbled down the incline.

"Did you just call me a 'big, strong vampire'?" I asked amusedly once he was firmly on his two feet, shoes sinking slightly into the thick mud.

"Better than being called ignorant," he quipped with furrowed brows, and the words stung within me. I cringed, slipping my hand from his grasp and folding my arms across my chest, looking over at Scott pointedly.

"It still works," the wolf informed us, wiping the screen with his sleeve, peering down at the blinking lights on the phone. I squinted at the dots, trying to figure out how to read the strange looking map.

"Pass me the flashlight?" Stiles murmured, and Scott handed over the item distractedly. "I think I found it," the human declared suddenly, and I looked up in surprise, clear eyes blinking into the shadows around the bend, revealing what was left of an old, crashed car.

"Why wouldn't they move it? Isn't it evidence?" Scott asked, slowly approaching the wreck.

"Probably too much of a pain in the ass to tow out." We were silent, all of us moving closer to the car. "You see those?" he asked quickly, the light hovering over a line of marks clearly etched into the door of the car, like a werewolf had sliced their claws through the thin material. "Animal claws would be closer together, right? A lot closer."

Scott hesitated, gently dragging his fingertips across the marks. "Then it was a werewolf," he muttered, not quite shocked.

"The Sheriff was right," I added with a hum, turning away from the wreck and allowing my eyes to slide through the shadows of the forest. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end. Something was watching us.

"What's that?" I vaguely heard Scott say from behind me, but my attention was on the unpleasant weight in my gut. I sniffed delicately, trying to find a human or werewolf – or vampire, for that matter – scent in the air.

All I was picking up was that damn coyote.

There was a high pitched squeak, like recorded words, then a large and violent outburst from Stiles, who slammed into my back. I stayed still as a statue, the knock having no effect on me, but I still spun around, abandoning my vigilance to grasp my boyfriend by the arms, holding him up and keeping an eye on his racing heart.

"I think I just had a minor heart attack," the human murmured, relaxing back in my hold.

"Your heart's fine," I assured him, pushing him gently so he was upright and holding his own weight.

He opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by his best friend. "Hey, Stiles?...Juliet?" My attention snapped away from Stiles, to the coyote growling at us from the tree line. Not completely unusual, except that the beast's eyes were glowing a bright, shining, shifter-blue. "Please tell me you guys see that too."

I sniffed again, it was definitely the same creature that had marked it's territory around the wreck site. "We see it," Stiles assured him, shifting backwards subtly, smart enough not to make any sudden movements.

The coyote in the trees growled once more then turned and darted through the shadows. Before either of us could make another comment, the teen wolf had thrown himself after the creature, hurtling through the woods as fast as he could.

"Scott!" Stiles exclaimed, tripping forwards as he stumbled after his friend. "Scott, wait!"

"Dammit Scott," I hissed, keen eyes focused on them as they raced away from us, further into the forest.

"What are you doing?" Stiles snapped, gesturing wildly in their direction. "Go after him!"

"And leave you here alone?" I countered with a sour frown.

"I'll survive," he retorted with a stubborn scowl. "I can handle myself. Now go!"

I grit my teeth but did as I was told, no matter how much I wanted to do the exact opposite. I hurtled through the trees, following the path the coyote – and Scott – had taken.

If my boyfriend and friends' living nightmares weren't bad enough, on top of that we've got what is possibly another shifter in town, Stiles and I were having relationship troubles, and I was once again a bloodthirsty and unpredictable murderer with no idea of my limits and no idea about just how bad things were going to get. Had I left anything out?

Never a dull day in Beacon Hills.

Now if only I could get through the next few weeks without completely flying off the handle.

* * *

**A/N: I know. Trust me, I know...but send me a review anyway and I'll talk you guys off the ledge. Love you!**


	51. Love The Way You Lie

_On the first page of our story_

_The future seemed so bright_

_Then this thing turned out so evil_

_I don't know why I'm still surprised_

_Even angels have their wicked schemes_

_And you take that to new extremes_

_But you'll always be my hero_

_Even though you've lost your mind_

Love The Way You Lie Part II – Rihanna

* * *

We'd found the coyote den, we'd called the police and somehow I was the one chosen to go scout the area for any sign of the fully-shifted Malia before the Sheriff and his deputies showed up.

"Me?" I hissed, arms crossed over my chest as I eyed Stiles in displeasure. "Why is it always _me_ that's sent to go search the woods alone?"

Stiles scoffed back, mirroring my position and raising his eyebrows. "Name _one_ other time you've had to go search the woods alone," he challenged me moodily.

"The time Lydia disappeared from the hospital, every third night when Erica and Boyd were missing, that time we were searching for the alpha pack, also during the summer when I chased after those rouge wolves and got bitten-"

"Okay, we get the picture," Stiles snapped, glaring across the clearing at me. I quieted but refused to feel guilty for my sass. "Would you just go? We're running out of time."

"What?" I asked confusedly. There were a lot of serious things about this task, but a time constraint wasn't one of them. "Running out of time for what? It's not like Malia will run out of the county."

Stiles was silent for a beat, and with a sickening drop of my stomach, I realised what he meant.

"You mean before your dad gets here," I answered myself, and he lowered his eyes, shoulders sagging. "You don't want him to see me with you," I finished faintly. It felt like someone had taken an ice cream scoop to my chest, and my hand moved there almost on instinct, as though the touch would soothe the pain. I hadn't expected for him to be _ashamed_ of me.

"Just until he cools off about the whole..." he waved his hand ambiguously.

"Embarrassing bloodthirsty-mass-murdering-undead-vampire-for-a-girlfriend thing?" I concluded, and he had the decency to wince. "It's fine," I continued when he said nothing, feeling the distinct sting of rejection in my stomach. "I'll go hide out in the woods before your dad sees us together," I added bitterly, turning around and taking a step towards the tree line.

"He just needs time," Stiles tried to say from behind me. I didn't even bother to look over my shoulder at him, merely striding passed an uncomfortable looking Scott and storming into the forest.

It was unfair to Stiles; I knew the unpleasant tension between us was my fault. I was keeping something from him, and he – being the intuitive, beautiful, brilliant human that he was – could tell. It wasn't even something small like dropping his ipod in the bath or accidentally-on-purpose opening his mail.

I had killed again. And I had loved it. And I wasn't sure I could stop myself from doing it again.

What were my options? To run? I wasn't a coward, I was a big girl, and I had to face my problems like one. I promised myself that I'd tell him eventually, he was going through a lot right now and he didn't need my shitty impulse control issues on his already overflowing plate.

I walked leisurely through the trees, heading in the direction of my suburb. A cigarette found it's way between my lips, and I lit it was a flick of my wrist, slipping the lighter back into my pocket and greedily sucking in the chemicals.

The temptation to flip the switch was more pressing than ever. I ached to feel nothing, longed to be able to act without questioning every little detail or how it would affect everyone around me. I kicked at a tennis ball sized stone, and it flew into the trunk of a big tree, cracking the wood before bouncing back onto the dirt.

I sucked in another breath, crossing my eyes as I stared down at the glowing tip of my cigarette.

I decided against looking for Malia in dog-form. What was I meant to do when I found her? I didn't feel like carrying a struggling coyote over my shoulder for the night. I took a left, heading directly for my house, my feet a blur on the ground as they moved quickly.

A bath was very much needed, so I toed off my shoes at the door, shedding my jacket and throwing it over the back of a chair. Something was eating at me, and I couldn't figure out what it was; but as I sat in the scalding hot, bubble filled water, it came to me like an epiphany.

I was _domesticated_. Like a common _pet_.

I was disgusted with myself. I was better than this, made to feel chastised and unworthy by a small town Sheriff, taking orders from a teen wolf as though he were _my_ alpha; it was pathetic. My fingers gripped so tightly at the sides of my large porcelain tub that the material groaned under the strength of my grip.

Things had to change. It was a matter of principle, a matter of pride. My reputation was at stake; hell, my _sanity_ was at stake.

I scrubbed myself raw, as though I were shedding a layer of skin. I stayed in the water until it was cool and all the bubbles had disappeared. The sun was peaking up over the horizon, I could see it through my small bathroom window as it broke the tops of the houses across the street.

It occurred to me that I hadn't slept since my...lapse in judgement, but I didn't need sleep. In fact, it was the last thing I wanted; who knew what I'd see once my eyes were closed?

There wasn't much to do until school started, so I dressed in my favourite leather pants and most comfortable flat heeled boots, sliding a simple grey button through my arms then throwing a thick, red poncho sweater over that.

My garage was used for nothing but the punching bag hanging from the roof – since I didn't exactly have a car to put in it.

I didn't bother taping my hands, they'd heal instantly anyway. I brought a mug of blood with me, sipping in between hits. It was fantastic to vent via punching bag.

The feel of the leather material covering sand under my fists was comforting, I enjoyed laying into it, keeping my punches lighter than usual, not wanting to break yet another bag. I was able to zone out, concentrating on only my fists flying into the bag, taking pleasure in the muted thuds that filled the room.

It wasn't until my phone beeped that I realised it was time to get to school. I wasn't expecting Stiles to show up to take me, so I was more than a little surprised when the Jeep pulled into my driveway as I shut and locked the door behind me.

I said nothing as I climbed into the passenger seat, the door clicking shut behind me. I didn't kick my feet up on the dash as I usually did, keeping my legs crossed and my feet firmly on the floor. Stiles cleared his throat, and I looked at him, only to see him looking away, clearly with no intention of saying anything.

He started the car, pulling out onto the road and turning the heating up a notch. We were silent for the first minute, then Stiles reached forwards, hitting a series of buttons on the radio until the vehicle was suddenly filled with smooth jazz, the relaxing sounds of a saxophone surrounding us.

I turned to face the window, letting my limp raven hair cover my face, refusing to allow him to see my smile. I knew that was as much of an apology as any words could express. "Scott's dad showed up at the den last night," he told me a minute later, keeping his eyes on the road.

I remained stoic, giving no hint of my true feelings, even though the sound of his voice made me want to melt. "And what did Agent Mc-douchebag want?" I asked cooly, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes at the group of preteens passing recklessly in front of the Jeep.

"To undermine my dad, to get the chance to act like a self-righteous asshole; take your pick," he retorted, snorting in amusement at his own words. My lips twitched, but the movement went unnoticed as he continued to not look at me.

We were silent again, the jazz filling the car, making me want to close my eyes and relax. I would have, had I not been so incredibly anxious.

"Are we going to talk about it?"

I glanced over at him, and he still had his eyes very pointedly fixed on the road. "Talk about what?" I asked, genuinely not sure exactly which topic he was referring to.

"Whatever you're keeping from me," he replied bluntly, changing gears and pulling into a side street that I knew not to be a short-cut, but instead the long way to get to the school.

"What makes you think I'm keeping something from you?" I countered, lying through gritted teeth.

"Don't play dumb," he finally glanced over at me, only to shoot me an unhappy frown. "I _know_ you, Jules. Better than anyone."

"You've known me for less than one year," I argued pettily. "I've been alive for two hundred times that."

"But you're frozen in time, so I can't imagine your personality has deviated that much in that time."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Touché," I murmured around a scowl, nose scrunching in displeasure.

"Come on, Juliet," he practically groaned, and not in a sexy way. "Why are you acting so weird?"

"The past nine months I've been acting weird," I hissed through my teeth, wincing at my own words. "_This is_ me acting normal."

"That's bullshit and you know it!" he exclaimed rather suddenly, pulling none-too-gently into a free space towards the back of the parking lot, the car stopping with a squeal and a jolt. "What's going on?"

I sighed tiredly, maybe I should've slept after all. "Stiles-"

"I need you right now," he told me with an expression like he was in pain. It sent a sting through me, and shame coursed through my veins. "I'm going through something, and I need you, and you're not here."

My eyes stung; I was once again torn between my instincts (which were screaming at me to shut down, stop feeling anything at all so I wouldn't have to suffer through the guilt that was eating away at me) and my heart (which was aching to hold my human close and tell him I'd never leave his side).

I settled for somewhere in the grey area in between both options. I leaned forwards, pressing my forehead to his clavicle and breathing in his scent. I didn't press my lips to his skin, I wasn't worthy, he deserved better than lips that had, not twenty-four hours ago, torn open an innocent man's throat and feasted on his blood.

My eyes continued to sting, my love for the kid swelling within me, and my shame stabbing at my insides. "You know I love you, right?" I said, even as the bell rang from the building in the distance. Neither of us moved. "Fuck, I love you so much Stiles. I will love every version of you, everything you are or ever will be, I love it. I love _you_."

Stiles' heart stuttered and his breath caught. His hand came up and his fingers wove through my hair, tangling in the raven locks. "Not that I don't appreciate the sudden declaration of love..." he trailed off, clearly trying to make sense of what I was saying.

But I couldn't stop, not now that I'd started. "Sometimes I wish you could turn it off like I could. It would be magnificent, Stiles," I pulled back, my watery green eyes meeting his. "We would have so much fun. We'd be full of nothing but pleasure and lust and love – all the things that drive a vampire, and we'd be _magnificent_."

"What are you talking about?" he sounded wary, maybe even slightly worried.

I frowned, the sudden urge to explain what I meant to him dimming but not altogether disappearing. "I sometimes just wish you could be as cruel and chaotic and vicious as I am," I sighed exhaustedly, running a hand down my face, embarrassed to feel dampness on my cheeks. "It would make me feel better, like I might actually deserve to be with you."

"Jules, what's going on?" he asked hesitantly, moving his hand from my hair to cup my jaw, honey brown eyes meeting mine, anxiety visible in the ripples of rich colour.

"I'm fine," I lied yet again, feeling like scum for doing so. I wiped under my eyes, relieved I hadn't put on any makeup that morning. "Just, since the whole 'missing week' with Kol, I've just been really on edge, I guess." That part, at least, wasn't totally false. "What about you?" I asked, feeling like shit for turning it around onto him, but also genuinely curious about the answer. "You haven't been yourself either, lately."

He hesitated, and I reached up to place my hands over his, intertwining our fingers. "It's just these dreams...I have this feeling..." he sighed tiredly. Oh, what a couple we made. "These dreams and hallucinations just have me on edge too."

I narrowed my eyes at him contemplatively, watching him as I attempted to figure him out. I heard his heart stutter nervously, and knew he was at the very least leaving something out. "Is that all?" I asked carefully.

He paused, seeming to think it over, then finally opened his mouth to respond, but there was a sharp tap at the window that interrupted him. I didn't move an inch, but Stiles flinched violently, reeling back and gasping in surprise as he spotted Coach staring through the window at us, that familiar permanent glare fixed on his face.

"Quit making out in the car like a couple of uncontrollable sexual deviants!" the teacher snapped, lifting his whistle to his lips and blowing hard, the sound cutting through the glass. "Get to class!"

I picked up my bag, slipping from the car, Stiles following once he navigated his way around the glowering economics teacher.

I kept my arms crossed, striding across the parking lot with Stiles by my side, listening intently to the sounds of his heart racing and his breaths beginning to slow. "Jules?" he asked when we came to a stop just inside the doors to the school.

"Stiles?" I responded, looking over at him warily.

"Are we okay?" he questioned, sounding more vulnerable than I could ever remember hearing him sound.

I melted, as I so often did in his presence, closing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around him, burying my face in his neck, glad the hallways were empty of students, since it was technically class time. "I'm going through something," I decided to stick to the truth as best as I could. "I don't know how to put it into words, but when I figure it out, I'll come straight to you."

"Promise?"

Even though the motion made me feel physically ill, I pressed my lips to his skin, enjoying the way his patchy two-day-old stubble felt against my lips. I hoped he didn't notice my lack of promise, but with the way his heart skipped a beat, I was sure it went unnoticed.

"Jules?" he asked against once I pulled back, reaching down to grasp his hand and beginning to tug him in the direction of the History classroom.

"Hm?" I hummed in response, squeezing his hand and pulling him around a corner. Being with Stiles, even just walking hand-in-hand down the hall, was almost enough to allow me to forget about the weight of my recent actions.

"Do you...wish I was more like you?" he again sounded vulnerable. I wondered what was going on in his head, but couldn't figure out how to ask.

"Opposites attract, love," I told him with a small smile thrown over my shoulder that was more forced than genuine.

"Maybe when I'm a vampire, I'll see the world the way you do," he said somewhat wistfully, squeezing my hand back, thumb brushing over the back of my hand tenderly.

"I can hardly wait," I murmured back as we came to a stop outside our class. Everyone was in their seats, staring up at the new guy who had begun teaching at the start of the new term. I knocked lightly on the door before sliding in, pulling a quiet Stiles in after me.

"You're late," the teacher, whose name I had yet to learn, said pointedly though not unkindly. "See me after class." He spoke friendlily, even had a small smile on his face. "Take your seats." With a final squeeze of Stiles' hand I let go, sliding into the open seat to the left of Scott while Stiles took the remaining empty one at the front of the room, directly in front of me. "Since you're here, how would one of you like to come up and read aloud for us?" he said in a way that definitely wasn't a suggestion. "Mr Stilinski?"

Stiles froze, taking a deep breath before murmuring, "Uh, maybe someone else could..."

"Everyone participates in my class, Mr Stilinski," the dark-haired teacher responded calmly. He glanced over his shoulder at Scott who wasn't paying attention, reading through a thick stack of papers on his desk. He glanced at me next, and I tried to nod encouragingly.

"Okay," he reluctantly muttered, sighing as he pushed himself to his feet. He shuffled over to the podium, and instantly I knew something was wrong.

His heart began to beat wildly and a sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead. I tensed in my seat, debating what to do. Every instinct in me screamed to go to his side, and after only a brief hesitation, I slid to my feet at the same time as Scott.

The wolf paused in the isle, but I didn't wait, barrelling up to the front of the room, slipping into place beside Stiles, wrapping one arm around his waist, prepared to hold him up if necessary. "Stiles, are you okay?" Scott asked worriedly as the kids kids in the room began to whisper.

"Stiles," I whispered gently, thumb caressing his hipbone comfortingly. He began to pant, his eyes going glassy and unfocused. "Stiles," I murmured with much more urgency, fear gripping my insides.

"We should take him to the nurses office," Scott finally said, and the history teacher hesitated.

"One of you can go," he decided, and my head snapped up to glare at him furiously.

He met my eyes, and the instant our gazes connected my pupils dilated, drawing him into me in the way only a vampire could. "We can both go," I ordered him, not caring about how odd it would look to the class in the slightest.

He froze, but I could tell it wasn't from the compulsion. Confusion filled me and my eyes flickered over him, finally coming to rest on a thick leather band the was tied around his wrist, almost entirely positive that it contained vervain.

What the fuck was our new history teacher doing with vervain?

I didn't have the time to worry about it, meeting his eyes once more. Chances were he now knew what I was, and he seemed to swallow thickly, eyeing me like he didn't know what to make of me.

"Fine, you may both take him," he finally allowed, and I didn't wait another moment; he was a problem I would deal with later. Instead I began to drag Stiles from the room, away from the prying eyes of the gossiping teenagers.

I all but yanked him into the hall and Scott was quick to slip up to his other side, helping me urge our best friend into the closest bathroom.

"Stiles, talk to us, is this a panic attack?!" the teen wolf asked in clear concern, staring at Stiles in alarm.

"This is a dream," my boyfriend murmured more to himself than anyone else. He threw himself out of our grip, stumbling across the room until he reached the sink, grasping the edge of it and staring at himself in the mirror, eyes wet and glassy. "This is just a dream."

"Stiles, love," I said cautiously, keeping my distance, the last thing I wanted was to crowd him. I hoped the term of endearment would help, but if anything his heart rate only spiked. "It isn't a dream."

"This is real," Scott added desperately, not keeping his cool as well as I was. "You're here. It's real. You're here with me. You're here with Juliet. We're all here, it's real."

We didn't have to hear his heart or his escalated breathing to know he didn't believe us.

"Okay, what do you do?" Scott asked, staring at his friend in panic.

I slipped closer to Stiles, letting my hand brush over his back, fingertips dancing across the muscles hidden by his shirt. "How do you tell the difference between a dream and reality, Stiles?" I translated collectedly, casting Scott a stern look over my shoulder, silently instructing him to calm down.

"Fingers," Stiles panted into the sink. "You count your fingers."

"Because you have extra fingers in dreams, right?" I finished for him, and even as he fought to drag air in, he nodded.

"And how many to do I have?" Scott asked, getting back on both feet and holding his hands out for Stiles to see. "Come on, Stiles! Look at my hands and count with me," he directed the panicking kid. I pressed my palm to his sweaty back, thumb brushing his spine like I had taken to doing the last few weeks when he was struggling with his nightmares. "One. Two. Three," the wolf began to count, holding up his fingers in the light, making sure Stiles could see.

"Stiles, breathe," I reminded him softly, continuing to rub his back gently.

"Come on, Stiles," Scott prompted, demanding the other boy's full attention. Finally Stiles began to count out loud, watching through narrowed and watery eyes as Scott held up finger after finger. "Ten," the wolf confirmed once he was done, and Stiles looked like nothing had shocked him more in his life.

Eventually Stiles' breathing began to slow. His heart still pounded, and I took a step back, giving the confused kid the space he needed. He backed himself into the wall, sliding down it until he was crouched on the floor, head hanging in his hands.

I waited a full minute before shuffling forwards, kneeling down in front of him, not touching him but definitely within reach should he want contact.

"What the hell is happening to me?!" Stiles demanded, though I was sure he knew neither of us had an answer.

"We'll figure it out," Scott swore, and of course he did, because what else could we say? "You're going to be okay."

"Am I? Are you?" Scott froze but Stiles continued. "Scott, you can't transform, Allison's being haunted by her dead aunt, and I'm straight up losing my mind. We can't do this. We can't help Malia, we can't help anyone."

The teen wolf finally took a seat beside me, and I leaned into my friend absent-mindedly, listening to the sound of his heart racing. "We can try. We can always try."

Stiles looked like he wanted to argue, but I held up a hand as I heard a distinct and concerning growl echo through the halls outside the bathroom. "Did you hear that?" I asked Scott, who was already clamouring to his feet.

"Stay with Stiles," the teen wolf instructed me firmly, though it wasn't necessary. Nothing would get me to leave Stiles' side. "I'll be back."

"What is it?" the human asked as Scott disappeared from the room, staring after his best friend worriedly.

"Not important." He looked up at me in surprise, but I shot him a flat, completely serious look.

"Jules," he said reproachfully, and I wavered.

"There was a sound," I revealed cautiously. "It sounded like...a coyote."

* * *

"And so you want to tranquillise this...Malia girl?" Deaton asked, eyeing us warily, not sure what to make of our plan. After finding Malia (the coyote) in the school, who had come to retrieve the doll that Stiles had taken from the crash site, we knew the only place we could turn for help was to our friendly neighbourhood emissary. "Get her to safety and get her to turn back?"

"Apparently," Isaac mumbled, and Stiles shot him a brief annoyed expression, though the rest of us ignored him.

"Is it possible?" Scott questioned, sagging with relief when the veterinarian nodded, turning around and disappearing through a doorway, only to reappear moments later with a handful of vials.

"It's a tranquilliser for horses," the man explained, placing the vials on the table in front of us all. "For a were-coyote I expect it to work within seconds. I only have three, so whoever's shooting needs to be a damn good shot."

"Allison's a perfect shot," Scott was quick to say.

"She used to be," Isaac spoke up, and we turned to glance at him with furrowed brows.

"She can do it."

"_If_ we manage to find the thing."

"Okay, what is the point of him?" Stiles interjected, gesturing at Isaac pointedly. "Seriously, I mean what is his purpose? Aside from the persistent negativity and the scarf. What's up with the scarf anyway? It's 65 degrees out."

"Don't hate on the scarf," I threw in with a wide, playful smirk in the blond's direction. "It's kind of working for him."

"Really? We're going to go there?" Stiles asked sourly, turning to face me with grouchy expression.

"I may be dead, but I'm still a woman with eyes," I retorted cheekily, enjoying the familiar banter as it filled me with a sense of comfort and something distinctly _homely_.

"Look, maybe I'm asking the question here that nobody wants ask, but: how do we turn a coyote back into a girl when she hasn't been a girl for eight years?!" Isaac interrupted our mini squabble, arms crossed as he stared back at us stonily.

We were silent, none of us having an answer.

Then, "I can do it."

We all turned to stare at Scott, eyebrows raised by how unsure of himself he really sounded.

"Remember the night that Peter trapped us in the school?" he continued, realising we needed him to elaborate. "In the gym he was able to make me turn using just his voice. Deucalion did the same thing in the distillery."

"You can't just watch someone sing opera and then belt out the same notes yourself," I hissed in annoyance at his shitty excuse for a plan.

"This is a were-coyote, Scott," Deaton added. "Who knows if it'll work even if you _can_ find someone who can teach you."

"That's why you called Derek first," Stiles murmured in realisation.

"I can try it on my own," the wolf nodded unconfidently. "But right now I'm too scared to change into even just a werewolf."

I sighed along with Stiles, who rubbed a hand over his nearly invisible stubble. "We need a real alpha," the human commented and Scott glanced up, clearly miffed. "You know what I mean. An alpha who can do alpha things, you know? An alpha who can get it going? You know, get it-"

"Up?" Isaac suggested. I pointed at him and nodded; it was a good analogy.

"Great, I'm an alpha with...performance issues," Scott sighed exhaustedly, no doubt humiliated just saying the sentence aloud. I snorted, the sound echoing through the suddenly quiet room. The alpha shot me an unhappy half-glare, and I shrugged in a halfhearted apology.

"Maybe there's someone else besides Derek who could help?" Deaton suggested, and we all paused in thought.

"Peter's out of the question," I said as soon as the thought occurred to me, making sure everyone knew he wasn't a viable option. I didn't trust him even slightly as far as I could throw him – which was _far_.

"Maybe the twins?" Stiles suggested.

"They're not alphas anymore. After what Jennifer did, almost killing them? It broke that part of them."

"But what if they know how to do it?"

There was a pause. "Nobody's seen them for weeks," Scott murmured thoughtfully, resignation splayed across his puppy-dog features.

"Actually that's not totally true..."

When I'd woken up that morning (or technically, yesterday morning, seeing as how I'd yet to go back to sleep since then) I hadn't been expecting to end the day in Derek's loft, watching two beta werewolves beat the shit out of an alpha with performance issues – his words, not mine.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" Lydia hissed at me incredulously, blinking up at me with her wide, doe eyes.

I leaned back against a beam, watching the one-sided cluster-fuck of a fight happening in front of me. I realised I was feeling more numb than usual, and blindly searched around for my inner switch. It was hovering somewhere in the middle of being on and off, and I firmly flicked it on, wincing at the pain it created in my gut and taking a step towards the three wolves, fangs sliding into position.

"It may not look like it," one of the twins - who knew which one – said to me as the other one smashed his fist into Scott's face. "But we're helping him."

"I thought you were going to teach me how to roar?" the alpha coughed from the floor, blood dripping from his mouth.

"We _are,_" twin #2 responded, staring down at the wolf below him. "You do it by giving in and letting go, that's how Deucalion taught us control."

"Y'know, that's funny. We actually tried something just like this one time, using a heart monitor and lacrosse balls, but you're right, beating the living crap out of him's probably a lot better," Stiles spoke up from behind us, and my lips twitched up at the memory.

Another memory flashed across my mind, of a man crumpled in my arms, pained and wet gurgling noises coming from him as his own blood filled his oesophagus before pooling in my mouth, collecting on my tongue in warm and rich flavours that made my head spin.

I grimaced in disgust at the flare of hunger I felt in my gut; I wasn't worthy of reminiscing about good times with the boys, those memories were tainted with the knowledge of what I'd done not even a full day ago.

The smell of blood intensified in the room, and for a terrifying beat I thought it was human, before I realised it was only more of Scott's blood as it poured from his mouth. The twins continued to wail on the smaller wolf. The alpha coughed up more inky red blood as they slammed their feet into his gut, talking to and taunting him the whole time.

"Come on, Scott," Stiles whispered from Lydia's other side, voice echoing in the large, empty room. "Fight back."

"What if I can't control it?" Scott groaned from the floor, glaring up at the betas hopelessly.

His words struck a chord within me. Was I in the same position? I was having difficulty controlling my urges, my power, just as he did. Should I do as the twins were suggesting and give in? Was suppressing my impulses only hurting me in the end? The only problem was that I wasn't sure if that would help, or make everything a hundred times worse, potentially losing myself in the process.

When the switch was flipped, it was like a whole new person took over, and I wasn't sure the town, or my friends, would be able to handle whoever that may be.

"What if I can't change back?" Scott continued desperately, bringing me back to the moment.

"Then it takes over," twin #1 told him bluntly with a shrug of his shoulders. I knew he was talking to Scott, but in a way, he may as well have been talking to me, and my stomach curdled unpleasantly. "You become Malia, you get further and further away from being human; you turn into an animal. Or worse-"

"You turn into Peter," twin #2 finished with a disgusted grimace.

Scott seemed to take the words to heart and wiped the blood from his face before charging. The twin he went for subdued him with laughable ease, throwing him onto the lone table in the room and repeatedly smashing his clenched fist into his face.

Rage reared it's ugly head in me, and before his fist had come down for a fifth time, I caught it in both of my hands, using his own strength to send him back and off of a helpless Scott who was staring blankly at the ceiling.

The twin I'd knocked on his ass gave a roar, leaping back to his feet and storming towards me, claws glinting in the moonlight that was streaming through the windows. The other twin leapt in between us, effectively putting a stop to his brother's attack.

"What? I thought we were helping him?" he roared at his twin furiously.

"You help too much," the sane brother responded calmly. The other one shot me a final sneer before backing off, stepping away from me and Scott, who I was braced in front of protectively.

I turned around, eyeing my werewolf friend in concern. Scott turned his head to the side, spitting out a mouthful of thick red blood and wincing as his face no doubt flared with pain. His gaze flickered around the room for a long moment, then focused on the ceiling once more.

I recognised the look in his eyes as one of determination and unshakable will.

One thing was for sure; whether or not he found his alpha roar by tomorrow, we _would_ be going out and getting Malia back before the next twenty-four hours were up.

* * *

In a way I related to Malia. I knew what it was like to be out of control, to lose yourself to your more primal instincts. I knew once she was turned back into human form (if at all) she would need someone to help her along, and though I usually detested doing unnecessary volunteer work, I figured a project would do me good, keep my mind off of my slowly weakening resolve to stay humanised.

"Do you think we'll be able to do it?"

I looked over at Stiles who was perched behind the wheel, steering us onto the reserve. He glanced over at me instead of Lydia, who was settled in the backseat, hands in her lap as she stared out the window thoughtfully – so I knew he was talking to me.

"I think we'll be able to catch her," I responded with a contemplative hum. "But I think whether or not we can _save_ her comes down to Scott. If he can't turn her back, what's the point? We can't keep her locked in a cage in coyote form for the rest of her life."

"Can you even imagine?" he asked, most likely rhetorically. "Being trapped in a dog's body for eight years? Living all primal and animalistic like that?" He shuddered at the mere thought.

Another wave of sympathy flashed through me for the girl, but outwardly all I did was stare out the window into the passing trees, wondering what he'd think of me if _I_ went into that state – minus the dog.

We pulled up at the furthest point we could drive to, from there we had to walk. I slipped from the car, boots sinking into the soft earth as I walked around to the left side where Scott was pulling up on his motorbike, and Allison was parking on his other side.

All of us were silent, none of us knowing what to say.

"Anyone else think we might be doing more harm than good?" Lydia was the one to finally speak up, and I had to consider her question. Usually my gut instincts were accurate, but I was confused on how I felt about this predicament. Were we doing the right thing? Did Malia even _want_ to be human again.

Unfortunately there was no way to find out before going ahead. We could only complete our task and hope for the best.

"We're trying to keep a father from killing his own daughter," Scott reminded us all, and I nodded absent-mindedly. That was true; letting her stay in this form was a danger to her life.

"Actually, we're trying to keep a guy from killing a coyote, who is actually his daughter, who we don't know how to change from a coyote back into his daughter..."

Stiles and I both had the same idea as we turned to glare daggers at Isaac, who held his hands out placatingly. "And again with the 'not helping'," my boyfriend muttered sardonically, and Isaac smiled back scornfully.

Scott sighed, clearly exhausted although we hadn't even begun. He turned away from the bickering boys, staring at Allison expectantly. "Did you bring it?" he asked anticipatively.

The dark-haired beauty fished the large tranquilliser gun from her trunk, holding it up for us to see. Confidence wasn't exactly instilled in me when I caught the fearful, unsure and anxious expression on her face – not the look of a self-assured sharp shooter.

"You okay, Allison?" I asked warily, eyes narrowing as I noticed a small tremor in her hands.

She looked shocked by my question – a deer in the headlights – but before she could respond there were two very loud and very distinctive bangs from what could have only been a few short miles away.

In an instant Scott was shoving his helmet onto his head and climbing back onto his bike. I spun around to face Stiles, who looked perplexed by his friend's sudden movement. "Stay safe," I cautioned my human, who clearly had no idea what was happening.

"Wait!" he cried as Scott's engine started and he took off. I glanced over my shoulder at him once more before turning away and rushing after him.

My boots dug into the dirt, kicking up the soft earth and making the scents swirl around me. I kept up with Scott easily, the bike going only a fraction of my possible speed.

"Where did it come from?" I asked Scott, who I knew could hear me even over the groaning of his engine.

"A few miles that way," he responded in kind, letting go of the handlebars with one hand to gesture to the west. "Go ahead, you'll get there quicker."

I didn't bother arguing, nodding my head even though he couldn't see and pushing myself faster, disappearing past the tree line. I didn't get more than a few yards away before an agonised scream ripped through the woods, followed by a metallic crash and sickening thud from behind me.

I identified the screamer as Isaac, but my priority was Scott, who was face down on the forest floor, not moving at all after his crash. "Shit," I cursed, spinning around and legging it back to Scott's side. "Scott!" I snapped, falling to my knees beside his still form. "Scott!" I hissed again, reaching forwards to shake his body slightly.

His heart was beating steadily in his chest, and though I wanted to take the helmet off, I knew from my years in college that it was safer for me to leave it on; he may have a head injury, and my blood – my usual go-to remedy – wouldn't do him any good.

Just as I was contemplating leaving him, maybe finding help, his heart sped up and he shot upwards, ripping the helmet off himself and staring up at me dazedly.

"Oh, thank fuck," I murmured more to myself than him. There was no time to waste, and I grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. He blinked and shook his head, shaking off the effects of the crash. I squeezed his shoulder tightly, my own emotionally-constipated version of a hug. "You're okay, buddy," I assured him as intelligence seemed to once more come back to his eyes. "Can you run?" I asked him firmly, glancing over my shoulder in the direction the shots had come from.

"Uh, I don't know," he responded confoundedly.

I clicked my tongue. "Well, we're about to find out," I muttered the instant before I grasped him and shoved him forwards, sending him crashing through the woods. For the first few yards he struggled with balance, but I kept a hand on his arm, steadying him and urging him onwards.

After about 200 yards he finally righted himself and charged on ahead, and I was relieved that any damage appeared to have promptly healed.

I kept pace with him easily, my keen eyes sweeping the trees, searching for any hint of coyote-Malia. Just when I was starting to get bored, a flash of movement caught my eye and I looked to the right to spot the coyote racing across the ground, faster than any regular dog I'd ever encountered.

"There!" I exclaimed as I pointed to the north after her, and Scott immediately changed directions, also catching sight of the creature. Now that we had her, she wouldn't be easily lost, but what were we meant to do from there? "What's the plan, chief?" I spoke over the wind, eyes locked on our target.

"Go ahead," he responded, sounding barely out of breath. "We've got to cut her off!"

I did as I was told, speeding up enough to overtake the canine, then at a loss for what to do. I decided to just keep pace with her, even as she veered to the right to get away from me. "Now would be a good time, Scott!" I prompted my friend over my shoulder; we couldn't just run around the woods all night.

I realised I recognised the part of the forest we were in, and a moment later we rounded a bend that revealed the large, hulking remains of the car wreck. From the corner of my eye I saw Scott leap into the air, and I acted on instinct as I hissed ferociously at Malia, making her jump away and towards the spot Scott had landed.

They snarled at each other, both displaying their dominance.

Then, suddenly and only slightly surprisingly, Scott let out a deep, earth-shattering roar.

My eyes widened before I could stop them, the hair on my arms and on the back of my neck stood on end and I sucked in a sharp breath that I would adamantly deny held fear. I scurried backwards, eyes flickering between the howling Scott and the coyote, who slowly but surely began to change shape.

Bones stretched and elongated, stormy grey fur gave way to smooth, pale skin.

Finally, a very naked and shocked looking girl lay where the coyote had been bowed. I allowed myself a brief moment of surprise before I snapped into action. "Call the sheriff," I commanded Scott as I jumped to my feet, reaching for the bottom of my wooly poncho and pulling it over my head. "Hi," I said to the girl, who looked scared out of her mind. She flinched at the sound of my voice, but I didn't react as I held out the item of clothing.

Scott pulled out his phone and turned away from the scene respectfully, letting her stand without being seen. She was shaky on her feet, tremors rattling through her as she took my hand, flinching again at the cold temperature of my skin.

"Malia?" I said it like a question, and she looked up in surprise. I got the feeling she hadn't heard that name in a very long time.

I stepped closer, moving slowly so as not to frighten her. She watched me warily, like she was sure I would snap and attack at any second. I gently pulled the poncho down over her head, and she winced at the feeling of the wool against her newly-human skin. It was long enough to fall down to her mid-thigh, and in an instant she must have realised how chilly it was in human form, wrapping her arms around herself and retreating into the fabric.

"The Sheriff's on his way, he's bringing a medic," Scott informed us, though Malia hardly seemed to be paying any attention, staring down at her human hands in fearful wonder.

"Are you okay?" I asked the girl, who glanced up at me for only a second before staring down at her toes, which she immediately began to wiggle experimentally. She didn't answer me, but I figured that was okay, everything should come in her own time. "I'm Juliet," I told her gently before nodding at the werewolf a few feet away. "And that's Scott."

I glanced over at the boy, who was staring at me with raised eyebrows. Instantly I let a cool mask drop over my face, and I crossed my arms, giving off a harsher air, not wanting Scott to see me as vulnerable or, heaven forbid, nice.

Scott tried to talk to Malia then, but she barely even spared him a glance. I remained silent, keeping an ear out for sirens. Finally, after a long and slightly uncomfortable few minutes, I heard cars heading towards our location.

"Jules, Scott," John breathed as he all but barrelled out of his car, making Malia flinch back in shock and slight fear. "Malia?" he asked her, freezing and holding his hands out, hoping not to scare her. "Malia Tate?"

She furrowed her delicate brow, tilting her head at him like she wasn't totally sure what he was saying. After a long, silent minute, she nodded, and I thought that maybe, she just might be okay.

* * *

A whole day later and I had yet to leave Malia's side. This was mostly because the perplexed and confused girl would hardly _let_ me leave, but also slightly because I liked someone needing me as much as she seemed to.

She didn't speak much, at first I wasn't even sure if she remembered how. After being poked and prodded at the hospital for most of the night, she was finally in the police car, on her way back to her dad. I sat in the back with her, keeping my eyes on the passing trees and giving her space, just acting as silent company for her.

Stiles sat in the front next to his father. He tried to make some attempts at small talk, but Malia barely even spared him a glance.

I thought back to our brief but important conversation back in the hospital room, while we were waiting for new clothes to be brought for her to wear home.

* * *

_I had wanted to go find Stiles or at the very least, Melissa to obtain a snack, but Malia had grasped my wrist, stopping me from leaving from the room. I hesitated, glancing back at her, only to see her not looking anywhere near me, but instead staring defiantly out the window, refusing to meet my gaze._

_There were certain things I knew I had to cover, because if I didn't, then we ran the risk of exposure, and I couldn't let the girl go telling everyone about her experience as a _coyote_._

"_Malia," I began quietly, removing my wrist from her grip and settling back into the chair beside her bed. She still continued to stare in the opposite direction, giving no sign that she could even hear me. "You know you can't tell anyone about this, right?" _

_She still gave no indication she understood me. _

"_Bad things happen when humans find out about us," I warned her gently, eyes focused on her frowning face. "You can't tell anyone about being a coyote, or about Scott roaring and turning you back into a human."_

_She said nothing for the longest time, heartbeat steady in her chest. "I'm cold," she spoke without warning, and I moved over to the cupboard by the door, fishing out a blanket and softly laying it over her. She pulled it around herself tightly, and I noticed her hands shaking. "Can I go back?" she asked suddenly, and I frowned in confusion._

"_To the woods?"_

"_To being a coyote," she corrected cooly._

_I hesitated. "I don't know," was my honest reply. "Maybe. Shifters aren't my area of expertise." _

"_Is that what I am?" she asked placidly, eyes glazed as she stared up at the sun as it rose above the horizon. "A shifter?"_

"_I guess you never had anyone explain it, huh?" I mused, and she scoffed bitterly at my words. I had to get back on topic, I had to be sure that it was safe to let her go home. "So you're not going to tell anybody?" I repeated. "You'll stick with the story the sheriff gives you?"_

_She didn't reply, but I could tell she wasn't really thinking about saying no, just rather thinking about everything in general. _

"_I won't say anything," she vowed, turning around to face the window, a clear dismissal. I nodded, content with that reply as I made to leave. Her hand shot out to grasp my wrist once more, and I paused, staring at her in confusion. She didn't look back, but continued to stare out the window as she held my wrist. I got the message, sitting back down in the chair and allowing silence to engulf us once again._

* * *

"Are you ready, Malia?" the sheriff asked her gently, and the were-coyote gave no answer other than a slight nod of her head. John took the keys from the ignition and opened his door. "Stay here, Stiles," he warned his son, who nodded his head acceptingly. I slipped out as the man opened Malia's door, walking around to her side and waiting for her to take the lead.

She didn't move, so the sheriff went first, softly urging her towards the house she was staring at with wide eyes.

I followed them up the stairs, my hands shoved into the pockets of my leather jeans, my footfalls silent on the usually-creaky wood.

John knocked on the door, and a moment later a man shuffled into view. His face was tired and drawn, and he glanced over Malia and I with no hint of recognition. The were-coyote glanced over her shoulder at me, and were I anyone else I would shoot her a smile, but I wasn't some coddling maternal human, I was _me_, so I merely inclined my head slightly, but it seemed to do the trick, because her glassy eyes got even more misty, and she sniffled as she turned back to her father.

"Mr Tate," the sheriff said bracingly, wrapping one arm around Malia's shoulders.

The man glanced at her again, and this time he saw something in her he recognised, because his eyes got as misty as his daughters, and he gasped. "Malia?" he asked, not even daring to hope. The coyote nodded, and though I couldn't see her face, a had a feeling she was caught between smiling and sobbing.

They embraced, he hugged her close to his chest like she was something easily breakable and she her shoulders shook as she began to silently cry into his chest.

Uncomfortable by the blatant expression of emotions, I shifted awkwardly onto the balls of my feet, fighting the urge to run away. I shuffled closer to the sheriff, who was leaning against the railing, watching them embrace with a sad smile. "I'll wait in the car," I told him, sure that Malia was fine now that she was with her family.

He nodded and I took that as an okay, wandering down the stairs and back towards the car. I didn't slide into the back again, instead going to Stiles' window and leaning inside, my crossed arms braced on the door. "Good news," my boyfriend said with a small, somewhat forced, smile. "I can read again."

"Is that so?"

"Objects in mirror are closer than they appear," he read off the side mirror, and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Yeah, but everyone knows they all say that," I replied teasingly. "You could have just memorised it."

Stiles scoffed indignantly, "I would never."

"Of course you wouldn't, love," I said, my tone condescending. He rolled his eyes back, glancing past me to the porch where Malia and her father had stopped hugging and were now murmuring along with the sheriff.

"Malia seemed to really take to you," Stiles commented after a moment of us watching them.

"I guess I just give off a trustworthy vibe," I self-deprecatingly joked, and he snorted indelicately. "Don't be an asshole," I warned lightly, and he rolled his eyes again.

"The night we first met, you were wearing all black, smoking a cigarette all alone in the middle of the woods and telling us to 'watch out for the big, bad wolf'," he reminded me with a small smirk. "Nothing about that screamed _trustworthy_."

"And yet, I still got you into bed," I replied impishly, and his smirk widened.

"That you did," he allowed, leaning forward to press his lips to mine.

If only things could stay like that forever.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, I can't believe this is chapter 51. This is one of my longest ever, and I hope you guys liked it, things only get darker from here, so hold onto your hats, folks.**

**Review and tell me where you think this is heading, I'm curious about your theories! **


	52. Painting Flowers

_When I wake up,_

_The dream isn't done._

_I wanna see your face,_

_And know I made it home._

_If nothing is true,_

_What more can I do?_

_I am still painting flowers for you_

Painting Flowers – All Time Low

* * *

"What are you wearing?"

I looked down at myself, wondering what was wrong with my costume. "It's a replica of the dress from the original _Alice in Wonderland_," I responded, almost certain we'd watched it together not two months ago.

"I _mean_ why are you wearing it _now_?" he rephrased his question, adjusting the bag on his shoulder and eyeing me through the dull yellow of my porch light.

"It's Halloween," I said obviously, eyeing him like he was mentally challenged.

"Oh, is it really?" he asked sarcastically, stepping aside to gesture at my unmaintained lawn and the decorations littering it. "Is that why your house looks like Hot Topic threw up all over it?"

I glanced past him, eyeing the skeletons, witches and pumpkins and the awesome smoking cauldron I'd compelled off a guy in Mexico.

"First of all, I don't know what a 'Hot Topic' is," I began with a frown. "Secondly, it's Halloween, only _the_ greatest holiday of all time, the one day a year on which people _like_ when I flash my fangs at them. And thirdly, I really think the more pressing question is: why the hell are you outside my door at 11:30 on a school night?"

"Ah!" he exclaimed like he'd just remembered why he was on my porch with a duffel bag and not in bed trying and failing to get some sleep. "It's mischief night!" he told me with an impish grin before glancing down at his watch. "Or, it will be, in half an hour."

"Ooh," I murmured, incredibly intrigued. "What is mischief night and why does it sound like something I would be the mascot for?"

"It's a night where all the students play pranks on the school – well, mostly Coach. And, get this! It just so happens to fall on his birthday!" he was practically giddy with excitement.

I felt the same. It was my favourite holiday, the first of many I hoped to spend with Stiles, and on top of it all, I was thrilled to see Stiles so happy and bouncy. He'd lost so much of that after everything that had happened, I loved nothing more in this world than seeing him smile like his old self.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked eagerly, cracking my fingers, eagerly anticipating fucking up Coach's day in the funniest way possible.

"We're meeting Scott at the school, where I will explain my whole plan, to both of you, in it's entirety," he told me, and I rolled my eyes fondly before slipping back inside my house, picking up my bag and shoving my feet into the matching little black pumps that came with the costume. "I have another question," he began as I quickly locked the door behind me and followed him back down the driveway to the Jeep. "It's 11:30 on a school night," he repeated my words from before. "Why are you wearing a costume _now_?"

"I spend the full week of Halloween in costume," I admitted with a small, slightly embarrassed smile before I reminded myself that I had nothing to feel embarrassed about, I was a grown woman, and I could do what I wanted without anyone's permission – _especially _walk around in costumes for the week of Halloween.

I glanced over at Stiles where he sat propped in the driver's side, hands frozen on the wheel as he stared at me with glazed eyes.

"What?" I asked self-consciously, lifting a hand to my lips and running my finger around them, making sure I didn't have any blood smudged from my last meal – which was bagged and frozen and most certainly _not_ fresh, no matter how much I wished it were.

"You're always surprising me," he said with a slight laugh, his voice breathy as his honey eyes stared through the shadows at me. "And I just really love you."

I melted internally, but refused to show it, so instead I merely pressed my fingertips to my own lips then reached across and stoically pressed the same fingers to his lips. He shot me a perplexed look, clearly not understanding. "I didn't want to ruin my lipstick," I revealed with a shrug, and he rolled his eyes as he started the car, pulling out onto the main road.

He reached over to the radio and pressed a sequence of buttons, making eery sounding piano music fill the car.

"Halloween themed classical?" I asked, glancing across the space at my human, who was slightly red in the face. I stared at him, eyes roaming over the moles dotted across his sharp cheekbones and the red blotches splashed between them.

"What?" it was his turn to ask awkwardly, eyes carefully focused on the road.

I grinned widely. If he'd look over he'd see the embarrassingly dopey adoration painted across my face as clear as day. "I just really love you," I repeated his words, though I'd never said anything more true.

His heart stuttered, and I loved that even after this long together, I was still able to fluster him as I did.

The memory of my recent slip-up seemed to tear through me in any moment I found myself inexplicably happy. I winced at the force of it this time, remembering the incident so clearly that I could almost still see the blood on my hands, still here the man's pleas in my ear, still taste his life on my tongue.

"Jules?"

I looked up at Stiles abruptly, blinking at him in surprise, his gentle and concerned tone a great contrast to what I deserved.

I forced a smirk onto my lips that physically hurt, pushing all negative thoughts from my mind and focusing on spending time with my human. "Sorry," I apologised halfheartedly. "Just lost in thought."

He nodded and began to ramble again, talking about what they'd done last year for the same occasion. I stared at him closely, noticing the deep, heavy bags under his eyes that were becoming more and more prominent with every passing day. I was worried about him, but realistically, what could I do? I couldn't force him to sleep, at least not with that vervain around his wrist.

I winced at my own thoughts; was I really wishing I could use _compulsion_ on my boyfriend? I justified that it was for a good reason, but it still made me feel like shit.

Stiles pulled into the parking lot, fishing the duffel bag from the backseat and all but leaping from his chair and onto the cement, very nearly tripping as he did so.

I slipped out with much more grace, my door clicking shut quietly behind me. "So, where to, chief?" I asked him lightly, stepping forwards to wind my arm through his and beginning to drag him towards the school.

"The locker rooms," he told me with a mischievous grin on his lips, coming to a stop at the bolted back doors to the building. "Wanna lend a hand?" he requested with an impish smirk, glancing pointedly at the heavy chains keeping the door locked.

I rolled my eyes and moved my arm out of his, grasping the metal chain and yanking. With a loud crack and a light jingle, the lock fell to the ground, the chains following close behind.

"You're like a Swiss Army Knife," he told me brightly as he pushed his way into the school. "So many uses."

"If you like what I can do with my hands, you'll love what I can do with my mouth," I murmured back teasingly, pleased when the red splotches returned to his face. "In fact, if I remember correctly, you _did_ love what I did with my mouth only the other night..."

"Now isn't the time," he responded after clearing his throat, strictly keeping his eyes on the ground in front of his feet.

"Are you sure?" I asked tantalisingly. "We could slip into a broom closet," I gestured to a small door to the right with a large cheshire cat grin. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Stiles paused, eyes flickering to the door contemplatively before he shook his head and continued marching forwards. "Scott'll be waiting for us," he mumbled, sounding disappointed.

I tilted my head to the side, listening for any signs of life in the school. "Hate to break it to you, love, but there's no one here," I told him when I couldn't find a single heartbeat.

"What?" he asked incredulously, whirling around to stare at me dubiously.

I pushed open the door to the boy's locker room, stepping inside and doing another sweep just to be sure. "Empty," I confirmed with a nod. "Maybe you should ring him?"

He grumbled under his breath unintelligently, swinging his bag onto his other arm and pulling his phone form his pocket, dialling his werewolf best friend's number.

"_Hello_?" Scott answered the phone casually.

"Get your ass down here, now," Stiles quickly said, tone biting. "We have a job to do."

"_But I'm already in bed_," he replied tiredly. "_And aren't we getting a little old for this_?"

"We do this for Coach."

"_I thought we did this_ to _Coach._"

"Whatever, okay? You know he needs this," Stiles argued. "He lives for this stuff, y'know? He loves it."

"_But it's the middle of the night_."

"12:15 actually, which means it's after midnight and officially Mischief night/day – and by perfectly awesome coincidence, it also happens to be Coach's birthday. So if you are not down here in five seconds, I will destroy you," he threatened the werewolf, wrenching open his locker and rummaging around inside of it for a long moment. I leaned against the one beside it, watching amusedly as Scott seemed to materialise in the room, hidden in the shadows, visible from his glowing red eyes. "In five, four, three, two-" Stiles just about suffered heart failure, all but jumping out of his skin when he finally turned around and noticed his best friend standing mere feet behind him.

"That defied the laws of nature," I murmured, referring to how fast he'd gotten here.

He turned to smile at me widely. "Like you don't do the same every chance you get," he countered with his usual puppy dog grin. I rolled my eyes, smiling back at him, much more restrained as I nodded in greeting. "What are you wearing?" he asked suddenly, seeming to take in my unusual outfit.

"My Halloween costume," I responded with an eye roll.

"But it's October 30th."

"Don't bother," Stiles interjected before I could reply, which I figured was for the best.

"So, can we finally hear the master plan?" I asked eagerly, turning to the human and folding my arms over my costume.

Stiles grinned, the expression blissfully happy as he opened his mouth to tell us his brilliant scheme.

* * *

"That's my face!"

I looked up in surprise where I was waiting by Stiles' locker, watching carefully as my boyfriend ripped the roll of toilet paper off his face, glaring at the culprit.

"Dude, good decision," he continued to Scott once he'd recovered, like they hadn't just been interrupted by a flying projectile. "Good _alpha_ decision."

"What happened?" I asked curiously as both boys came to a stop beside me, Stiles greeting me with a swift kiss to the cheek that made me smile.

"The twins asked to be in the pack," Stiles explained, unlocking the door and rummaging through his belongings.

"You're kidding," I chortled in amusement. "You said no, right?" I asked Scott, who nodded but was staring into the distance, attention clearly not on me. "Scott, please tell me you said no."

"He said no," Stiles confirmed with an eye roll, shoving his books into his bag and glancing over his shoulder at what Scott was staring at. I followed their line of sight, brow furrowing as I noticed it was the girl from the other day, the one who told us about _Bardo_. "What are you looking at?" Stiles questioned slyly.

"Me?" Scott asked innocently.

"Yes, you," I snorted in amusement, tipping my head back against the lockers and letting my eyes drift over the new girl again. "Who is she?"

"Kira," Scott answered instantly, something like a dopey smile on his puppy-dog face. "You met her the other day." He paused, seeming to consider something. "And I _wasn't_ staring," he suddenly amended, turning to frown at me.

"Yeah, you were," I snickered, and Stiles joined me.

"You like her?" he asked his best friend with a smirk.

"No," Scott spoke too quickly to be telling the truth. He noticed my narrowed eyes and stumbled along. "I mean...yeah, yeah – she's okay. She's new."

"So, ask her out," Stiles told him encouragingly.

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

"_Right now_?"

"Right now," Stiles sighed, clapping the wolf on his back. "Scott, I don't think you get it yet. You are the _alpha_, okay? You are the apex predator. Everyone wants you, you know? You're like the hot girl that every guy wants."

Isaac sauntered up to us quietly, looking bewildered by the conversation topic. "I'm the hot girl?" Scott asked with narrowed eyes, seeming to consider – and enjoy – the comparison.

"You are the hottest girl," Stiles confirmed, hand finding mine like magnets as he shot Scott one final smirk before pulling me away.

"Good analogy," I praised the human, intertwining our fingers and staring up at him with adoring eyes. "The hot girl – gets them every time."

"You'd know," he murmured, and I glanced back up at him confusedly. "Y'know?" he prompted, suddenly looking awkward. "'Cause _you're_ the hot girl."

I snickered again, rolling my eyes fondly and leaning into him gently. "Smooth, Stilinski," I told him softly, brushing my nose along his collarbone before pulling back and all but yanking him into the economics room. "So, how will we know when the _thing_ happens?" I asked eagerly, sliding into the seat on Stiles' right, crossing one leg over the other. "Maybe we should have installed cameras or something."

"You're acting like you've never pulled a prank in your life," he told me with a smile.

I shifted uneasily. "It wasn't a very common method of amusement when I was growing up," I revealed, lips pulled down in a frown.

"Trust me," he assured me gently. "We'll know."

A minute passed and the rest of the students began to flood into the room. Scott showed up soon after, snatching the seat on Stiles' other side. "So?" I asked eagerly, leaning over Stiles' desk to talk to him face to face. "Did you do it?"

"Do what?" he asked bewilderedly.

"Ask that girl out," I replied impatiently.

"For at _least_ the fourth time, her name is _Kira_," he corrected me, but I waved him off ardently. "And, I need to...work up to it."

"You're apussy," I sang teasingly, and he rolled his eyes at me before returning his attention to the book in front of him.

A loud bang unexpectedly echoed through the classroom, followed by a furious, "Son of a _bitch_!" I grinned slightly manically, finding glee in affectionately terrorising the teacher. It was good to get my fill of chaos in ways other than murder for once, I resolved to do it more often.

Coach burst from his office, irritated scowl on his face.

"Mischief night, Devil's night; I don't care what you call it," he began tightly, taking the time to glare at each and every one of us. "You little punks are evil. You think it's funny? Every Halloween, my house gets egged? A man's house is supposed to be his castle." The teacher continued to mutter angrily to himself, but I paid little attention after that, leaning back in my chair and absent-mindedly doodling on my textbook.

Class passed quickly, Coach leaving us to read from the book while he continued to whisper threats against us under his breath. I slid from the room as soon as the bell rang, hesitating by the door while I waited for Stiles to gather his things and meet me.

A scent reached my nose, one that had my gut churning and my gums aching.

Someone was bleeding.

Saliva pooled in my mouth and I gripped my textbook so tightly it began to scrunch up in my hand. The urge to feed was more pressing than ever, every nerve in me screamed to get to it. The blood wasn't normal, however. There was something rotten about the intoxicating smell, and it was both disgusting and irresistible at the same time. I felt my eyes begin to flood with blood, and just before my last remaining thread of resolve broke, Stiles appeared in my line of sight.

"Whoa," he exclaimed, wrapping an arm around my neck and making me duck my head. "Love, your eyes." I didn't have time to process the term of endearment that usually I was the one to use, instead hissing and wrenching myself away from him before my jaws could get too close to his delicate throat. "Crap, and your fangs," he added, glancing down at the protruding teeth. "Is this like what happened with Scott last week?" he asked desperately, gently shoving me into an alcove where we wouldn't be disturbed. "What's wrong?"

"Blood," I answered him, my breathing laboured.

"You need some?"

"I smell some."

"You mean, someone's hurt?" he asked, looking alarmed. "Are they okay?"

"They will be unless I manage to get to them," I all but snarled, feeling physically ill as I held my instincts back. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last time, I cursed Kol in my head, feeling pure loathing for him for what he'd done to me, to what he'd made me become.

"Drink from me."

I glanced at Stiles in shock. "We're in the middle of a crowded hallway," I hissed at him like he hadn't realised where we were.

"People will think we're kissing," he shrugged, leaning closer to me and offering me his neck.

"Stiles, I love you for offering, but I'm not sure it's a good idea," I grunted with difficulty. Were it any other day, I'd tell him yes, that would be brilliant. But I couldn't today, because I wasn't sure I could hold myself back from taking things that step too far, and I'd kill myself before taking that risk with him.

The urge to turn off my emotions became more pressing than ever, like a pressure in my head that I knew would only release should I hit the switch. As a general rule, vampires with their humanity turned on had a harder time resisting the call of blood, and vampires with their humanity off could handle it much better.

I bit my own tongue in a move of desperation, and my own blood filled my mouth. It was bitter and not at all satisfying, but it did the trick, and a moment later I felt my eyes and teeth return to normal.

The pull for the blood was still there, and I knew I didn't have long until I gave in completely. With a heavy heart, I nudged the switch. It wasn't enough to send me over the edge, it was more of a distancing of myself. I knew it was the only way to keep everyone in this school safe. Ironically, they were safer if I was bad than if I was good – at least if I was in 'bad mode' I'd have more control.

"You alright?" Stiles asked warily, hands braced on my shoulders.

I nodded, keeping my face carefully schooled so he couldn't know how close we came to pure pandemonium in the form of a nineteen/two-hundred year old vampire with no remorse and a set of deadly fangs. "I'm fine," it wasn't exactly a lie; I wasn't sure how I felt. I felt kind of numb, almost blissfully so. I'd missed that feeling, but I couldn't let it get to my head.

I focused on my love for Stiles, and I felt a warm buzz in my chest that had everything to do with his close presence.

I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but before I knew what was happening I opened my mouth, only to catch sight of something over my worried boyfriend's shoulder. "Your dad's here."

"What?" he asked bewilderedly.

"Your dad," I repeated, nodding to the man talking with the principle behind him. "He's here."

Stiles immediately looked torn between whether to go speak to his dad or remain with me. "You're sure you're okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm sure," I lied again, and he didn't look convinced, but he still nodded and turned away. I was expecting him to leave me there, but apparently he didn't want me out of his sight, because he grasped my hand, spinning around and dragging me down the hall after his father.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, making people turn to look at him in alarm. "Dad!"

"Not now, Stiles," the sheriff said sternly.

"Dad, what's going on?" Stiles persisted stubbornly, chasing after the man as he turned down the hallway and continued through the school, several deputies flanking him. Stiles held my hand determinately, dragging me after him, fixated on getting answers.

John looked over his shoulder at us with a frown, but decided to relent after all. "William Barrow was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery," he told us. "An hour ago he escaped police custody and he was spotted a few blocks away."

The information was enough to make Stiles freeze for a moment before jumping back into action, darting after his father. "_The _William Barrow?" he demanded in a panic. The name wasn't familiar to me, but I didn't even read the newspaper, let alone watch the news. "The shrapnel bomber? Spotted nearby?"

John sighed, pausing and turning around to face us, lowering his voice so he wouldn't be overheard. "A little closer than nearby," he admitted.

"Is he injured?" I asked quickly, shifting forwards and staring back intently.

"Yeah, he was in the middle of surgery. No one knows how he woke up from the sedative they gave him," he answered confusedly.

"What kind of surgery?"

"I don't know, all I do know is that they found a tumour full of live flies inside his stomach." He paused, eyeing me suspiciously. "Why?"

I didn't reply, turning back to Stiles with a worried frown. "The blood I smelt," I told him, and he nodded with wide eyes. Before he could answer, bag-of-dicks-McCall passed us, talking with the principle as they walked, words sounding urgent.

"Dad, what's really going on here?" Stiles asked his father carefully.

John hesitated, but again, rightly decided that keeping us in the loop was the best move. "When asked why he blew up that school bus," he began softly, glancing over his shoulder suspiciously. "All he would say was that he did it because...because some of the kids had _glowing_ _eyes_."

Stiles and I were stunned into silence, realising this was much bigger than we had first assumed. One of his deputies leaned over and murmured in his ear, but I didn't care to listen in. The sheriff turned back to us and shot us a grimace. "I've gotta go," he said, than glanced at me. "Keep him safe," he ordered me shortly before turning around and slipping down the hall after the other officers.

"Well, that's emasculating," Stiles murmured as he stared after his father.

"Not the time," I reminded him impatiently, and he shook his head like he was shaking off the moment before turning and beginning to walk towards the cafeteria.

"We have to find the others," he told me, grasping my hand and dodging the students filling up the hallway. "Can you sniff them out?"

It was easy enough to find the others, well, Isaac, Allison and Lydia to be exact. Stiles relayed to them what had happened and what the situation was with the escaped convict.

"Barrow went after kids with glowing eyes?" Isaac confirmed with a concerned frown as we turned a corner, heading down an empty hallway. "He said those exact words?"

"Yeah, and no one knows how he woke up from anaesthesia," Stiles informed them. "And when they opened him up they found a tumour full of live flies. Which in any other circumstance would be all kinds of awesome."

"Did you say flies?"

We all turned around to see Lydia had stopped walking midway down the hallway, frozen as she stared at us with glossy eyes. "Lydia?" Allison asked cautiously.

"All day I have been hearing this sound – it's like...this...buzzing."

The words clicked something into place for me. "You mean like flies?" I asked with raised eyebrows.

"Exactly like the sound of flies."

"What could that possibly mean?" Isaac asked dubiously. "Why would she be able to hear the flies?" I glanced over to see him staring at me expectantly, as though I had all the answers.

"It's not an exact science," I frowned at the dirty-blond boy. "I don't know much more than you. You want answers? Go to a witch-doctor."

"You're the least helpful vampire I've ever met."

"Keep it up and I'll be the last vampire you'll ever meet, you little f-"

"I think what's important here," Allison interjected loudly, apparently not appreciating our bickering, "is that we search the school ourselves. And we _have _to find Scott."

"I'll sniff him out," Isaac offered.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "You stay on the police, alert us if they find Barrow. Jules and I will find Scott." He pulled out his phone, holding it up for us all to see. "Keep in contact."

"And whatever you do, don't let your eyes glow," I warned Isaac, who for once didn't have a comment in reply, merely nodding his head and leaving with Allison and Lydia to tail the police. "What class does Scott have next?" I asked Stiles, who paused for a beat as he thought.

"Math, I think," he responded.

"Come on," I prompted. "The quicker we find him, the better."

It took longer than usual to find Scott with all the unfamiliar scents the agents and officers were tracking into the school, but eventually we ran into him outside the history classroom. "Dude!" Stiles hissed as he noticed him, shoes squeaking on the floor as he stumbled over to the alpha. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Heels clicked on the linoleum and we looked over to see Lydia approaching us as quickly as she could in those shoes. "The police are leaving," she told us with a worried scowl marring her stunning features. "Why are they leaving?"

"The police?" Scott asked incredulously.

"They must have cleared the building and grounds, which means he's not here," Stiles sighed exhaustedly, and again I wished I could force him to sleep – he desperately needed it.

"_Who_?" Scott demanded, more confused with every passing word.

"And I haven't smelt any blood since before, and if he was here I'd be able to pick it up," I added with a frown.

"_Blood_?"

"He _has_ to be here!" Lydia argued, voice shrill with panic. "That sound, the buzzing I've been hearing? It's getting louder."

We paused, exchanging uneasy glances. "How loud?" Stiles asked, looking like he wasn't sure he even wanted to know the answer.

Lydia didn't speak for a long time, clearly focused on something none of us could hear. "Deafening," she finally answered.

"I've gotta go talk to my dad," Stiles murmured hurriedly. "Jules, fill Scott in! Lydia, you're with me!" With that he took off down the hall, heading for the rear exit.

Scott turned to look at me with wide, expectant eyes. "Okay," I began uncomfortably. "So it's kind of a long story. You ever hear of William Barrow?"

Thankfully Scott was sharp, and he seemed to understand what was happening and the severe danger the situation presented. Once he had all the facts and I was done, he switched into alpha-mode, standing an inch taller and getting into his leader mindset.

"Go get Isaac and the twins," he commanded gently, distracted as he pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'm going to get my mom to bring me something we can get a scent off."

I was shaking my head before he'd even finished. "I smelt his blood earlier, if he was still in the school I'd be able to tell."

"Not if he cleaned up and covered the wound," he said, and I had to admit he was right.

"Okay," I nodded reluctantly, the twins being the last people I wanted to go to for help. "I'll find them and we'll meet you outside the chemistry lab?"

He nodded back, hitting a button on his phone and turning down the corridor. I didn't bother keeping my speed at a human level, instead racing through the halls quickly, my keens eyes sweeping each room for any sign of the local wolves.

I found Isaac first, he was sitting near the entrance, keeping an eye on the remaining cops like he'd been told. "Hey, dog-breath!" I called to get his attention, and he looked up, irritation clear across his face. "You're being reassigned," I told him, one hand bunching in his teeshirt and yanking him back down the hallway.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, ripping himself from my grip and narrowing his eyes at me.

"Scott's got a plan," I told him, and apparently that was enough to get him to change his tune. He stopped resisting, nodding along and moving with me. "Where're the twins?"

Isaac snorted. "Why?" he asked quizzically, grimacing at the mere thought of interacting with them.

"I feel the same way, trust me," I assured him. "But I'm on Scott's orders."

"I think I saw them by the library," he told me reluctantly, and we took a left, heading closer to the east end of the school, where the library was located. "There they are!" he exclaimed suddenly when we were two corridors away from the study centre. I spotted them standing by a locker, murmuring between themselves.

They looked up in surprise when we approached, expressions guarded like they weren't totally sure we wouldn't attack them on sight.

"Scott needs your help," I told them in my most detached voice, torn between wanting them to say no and yes. "Are you in?"

They paused, glancing at each other, clearly communicating in the way only twins could. "What do we have to do?"

* * *

"Lydia thinks he's still here, even though the cops searched the whole school, but they didn't have one thing-" Scott began, tearing open the bag and pulling out a foul smelling hospital gown, "-our sense of smell."

"You want us to track him through the school?" one of the twins asked with narrowed eyes.

"We need to start in the basement and work our way up," he nodded, and though none of us were thrilled with the plan, we did as we were told. "You two take the east half," he instructed the twins. "We'll take the west."

We split up as soon as we could, and I was more than happy to get out of their presence. I found them irritating, and they'd killed one of our own, so I trusted them about as much as I trusted...Peter, or better yet...Klaus.

"This is how it's gonna be now? We trust them?" Isaac asked with a scowl as we slowly made our way through the red-bathed corridors.

"Just because I'm letting them help doesn't mean I trust them," Scott corrected.

"I don't trust them either," he murmured in response, taking a beat to sniff the air. "Or like them. In fact I hate them and I actually want them to die."

"I'm with you there, buddy," I muttered, leaning through a doorway and scanning the supply room with my enhanced sight, slightly surprised we actually agreed on something.

"Well, if Barrow's actually here and he'd got a plan, you might both get what you want," Scott replied, sounding disapproving with our murderous thoughts. It rolled off me like water. I glanced up at Isaac with an impish leer, who smirked back widely, both pleased with the pretty picture he painted.

Before any one of us could say anything more, a loud and piercing bell cut through the still quiet of the basement, the sudden sound making us flinch.

"Come on," Scott prompted us, gently pushing on my back to get me going. We jogged up the stairs and down the halls, pushing our way out of the building. The sudden onslaught of the painfully bright sun made my eyes ache, and I winced, struggling to adjust to the light as I worriedly searched the crowd for Stiles.

After a minute he appeared to my right, and I held my hand out, relief filling me when his skin slid against mine, blissfully warm and soft in comparison to my own.

"We didn't find anything," the twin in the blue shirt said once Lydia reached us, the group completed.

"Not even a scent," Scott added.

"It's three o'clock, so school's over," Stiles spoke up with a frown. "If there was a bomb wouldn't he have set it off by now?"

"Does that mean everybody's safe?" green shirt twin asked, looking intently at Lydia.

The redhead paused, delicate brow furrowed as she stressed. "I don't know," she finally admitted, looking like she was mentally beating herself up over her answer. "I just...I don't know."

An idea hit me, and I turned to Stiles, lowering my voice. "Maybe the board at home will trigger something for her?" I suggested, and he understood what I meant immediately.

"I think I have something at my house that'll help you," he told her, stepping aside as that new history teacher slipped up to us, gently taking Scott away, murmuring something about dinner. "You should come back with us, then we'll take you home later."

Lydia looked like she was thinking it over, and after a long moment she shrugged. "Why not?" she replied lightly.

Scott reappeared beside us, and I noticed the twins had backed off, standing off to the side and muttering between themselves. "I have plans tonight, the new history teacher just invited me to dinner for saving his daughter, Kira's, life," the alpha told us, something like a bemused expression on his face. "Are you guys going to be okay?"

"We have plans too," Stiles responded, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "We'll be fine."

"Keep your phone on incase something comes up," I added, and the wolf nodded before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.

The drive to Stiles' house was done in near silence, the only sounds filling the car being the smooth jazz playing softly from the stereo and the teens' low breathing.

To say Lydia was surprised by the new decorations in Stiles' room was an understatement. She put her bag down on the floor by the door, standing in the doorway awkwardly as Stiles and I wandered further into the room.

I kicked my shoes off and shed my jacket, smoothing my hands down my blue dress before taking a seat at the desk and kicking my bare feet up onto the slab of wood.

"You can come in, you know," I said over my shoulder, Stiles already caught up in fiddling with his board and barely glancing over his shoulder to nod. He'd been working on it for days now, said it helped him figure things out, made him feel like he was doing something to contribute, and not just sitting around on his ass all day, waiting for the supernatural members of the pack to do all the work.

Lydia slipped into the room, taking a seat on the bed, eyes roaming over the hundreds of pictures tacked to the walls. "Have you been working on this long?" she asked gently, shuffling back on the bed to get more comfortable.

"A few days," he replied with a shrug, securing a red string to a tack.

"What do the different colour strings mean?" she questioned, glancing down beside her at the pile of colourful strings.

"They're just different stages of the investigation," he answered, glancing away from his work. "Green is solved, yellow is to be determined, blue's just pretty." My lips twitched up and I turned away before either of them could notice the amusement.

"What does red mean?"

"Uh, unsolved," he told her hesitantly.

"You only have red on the board."

"Yes, I'm aware. Thank you," he responded, voice overflowing with attitude.

"Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?" she asked quietly.

"Yep, every day this week. It's okay though, we're onto something."

"Even though we couldn't find any proof of Barrow being there?"

I glanced over at the banshee, who had her eyes lowered to the floor in something like resignation or shame. Stiles' brow furrowed, and he leaned back against the wall, speaking calmly and reassuringly. "Lydia, you have been right every time something like this has happened. So don't start doubting yourself now."

Lydia frowned again, pressing her fingers to her chin. "No scent, no bomb," she listed tiredly, clearly feeling guilty. "And I got you in trouble."

"Barrow was there, Lydia," I spoke up, using my feet to roll the chair forward, coming to a stop beside the sad redhead, hoping I was at least, in some small way, helping. "I smelt him once, he was _definitely _there. Your instincts are the most important thing to focus on, and your's are more accurate than most."

She smiled ruefully. "You're the last person I thought would try and make me feel better," she admitted softly.

I sat back, realising I'd let my guard down and appeared kinder than I'd wanted to. "Well, I don't like to do what people expect," I answered tightly, crossing my arms like they were a barrier. "It keeps things interesting."

I turned back to Stiles, who was watching us with a smile. I pressed my lips together to smother one of my own and his smile widened for a moment before suddenly dropping, making him look like he'd been shocked by something. "Get up," he said suddenly. "Both of you, up, _now_!"

I slid to my feet, eyeing him with worry. "Why?"

"We're going back to the school," he told us sharply, and I could practically hear the cogs turning in that brilliant mind of his.

The school was deathly still and quiet when we arrived, and they'd replaced the chains to the door that I'd broken last time. Stiles looked at me expectantly, and I rolled my eyes as I grasped the metal links, ripping it off the door with all the ease of a human tearing paper. "You wanna tell us what we're doing back here?" I asked as we slipped into the school, the hallways dark as he led the way down towards the chemistry rooms.

"I have a hunch," he responded quietly, as though talking too loudly would disrupt something or someone in the school.

"In the chemistry lab?" Lydia asked, and Stiles nodded, though I doubted she could see through the shadows. "So, what're we looking for?" she continued once we'd pushed our way into the lab, Stiles moving straight to the chemical cupboard. "That was supposed to be locked," she added when Stiles barged his way into the room, eyeing the door suspiciously.

I grimaced as the intense smell of chemicals hit my sensitive nose, the scent strong and making my throat itch.

"Yeah, I know," Stiles nodded, eyes fixed to the mostly empty vials of chemicals. "Notice anything else?"

"It reeks of chemicals," I spoke up, grimacing again as I breathed in, noticing the subtle but unmistakable smell of blood in the room.

Lydia put it together before me, but I couldn't fault her for it. "They wouldn't have been able to catch a scent," she said in realisation.

My keen eyes swept the room, and I caught sight of an achingly familiar substance smeared on the floor, the substance responsible for the smell. "Stiles," I murmured, and when he looked up I pointed to the blood on the linoleum.

"He was here," my human said, shining the light from his phone onto the red liquid. "Performing very minor surgery on himself; you were right."

"Why don't I feel good about this?" she asked darkly.

"Probably because he was here to kill somebody."

"But _who_?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" I muttered, looking back into the classroom, eyes searching for any hint of a clue. "Hey, do these atomic numbers mean anything, you think?" I asked, catching sight of the sequence of numbers on the board on the opposite side of the room.

"You know atomic numbers?" Lydia asked in surprise as Stiles slipped past us, heading for the board.

"Don't look so surprised," I murmured back icily. "I may not be a genius, but I _have _been to college." The redhead had the decency to look chastised.

"What is it?" Stiles asked as we approached. "Is it a formula?"

Lydia again proved just how smart she was, listing the names for each of the numbers, writing it's corresponding letter beside them, until finally it spelt out:

_K_

_I_

_Ra_

"Kira," Stiles murmured in shock. It took me a moment to place the name, and once I did, I bit my lip in confusion. What would they want with the new girl that Scott was enamoured with? For a bone-chilling second I thought that maybe the point was that _Scott was enamoured with her_, but I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came – I'd never come across a creature so petty, and it couldn't be the case.

I knew one thing for sure; there was more to the new girl than what met the eye.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked this chapter, sort of slow, laying the basis for future events. Hi to new readers, I've noticed a few more in the last few weeks and I love each and every one of you.**

**What I really want to know is how you guys wanna see Void!Stiles and Juliet play out, I'm desperate for input, so please leave me a review and tell me what you want to see happen, because right now I have two versions of the same chapter written (chapter 56), and it could literally go either way. So let me know and I'll respond to each person and we can talk about your theories. **

**I love you all, until later~**


	53. A Part Of Me

_Don't let me go down this road again_

_We both know where this ends_

_In a storm of feeling, I'm so unappealing_

_I can't play these games_

A Part Of Me – Neck Deep

* * *

"He isn't answering his phone!" Stiles sounded out of breath, even though he wasn't running but instead merely behind the wheel of his car, foot pressed hard onto the accelerator. "Why the hell isn't he answering his phone?!"

"Maybe he's getting lucky," I suggested lightly, absently rifling through my satchel for my thermos of blood. The car went silent, and I glanced up to see Lydia frowning at me from the passenger seat and Stiles glaring at me in the the rearview mirror. "What?" I asked defensively, pouting back at them over the backseat.

"Dammit," my human cursed when Scott's phone went through the voicemail again. Suddenly the brakes screeched as Stiles slammed his foot down on them. "Is that-?" he began, cutting himself off as his heartbeat began to rise in fear.

I was out of the car and by an unconscious Scott's side before the human or banshee could so much as unbuckle their seatbelts. "Scott?" I called, gravel from the road digging into my knees, though I cared little. I reached forwards, lightly slapping the wolf's face as Stiles tripped over to me, Lydia close on his heels. "He's alive," I assured them, listening closely to the sound of his steady heart. "Scott!" I shouted, slapping him harder.

"Come on, Scott!" Stiles barked from his other side.

It took another minute, but finally Scott's eyes peaked open and he peered up at us blearily. All his memory seemed to come back at once, and he gasped, flying into a sitting position. "Barrow! He-he took Kira!" he stammered frantically as we backed up, giving him space to recover.

"We know, he was after her the whole time," Stiles replied as calmly as he could.

"We have to do something!" he shouted, and I moved to my feet, reaching down to tug him up to his.

"Juliet can try and track them, you call Isaac and Allison and see if they have any leads," Stiles dealt out tasks like he was a natural born leader. I didn't like being told what to do (a common thought I had these days), but I did it, however much begrudgingly, anyway.

I did a quick but thorough sweep of the area, but all I could smell was the rotting stench from the school and the overpowering and stinging reek of chemicals. This would have been enough, if they hadn't used some method of transport that cut off the trail. I kicked a garbage can in anger, watching with pleasure as it flew across the road and landed in a rose garden.

"Anything?" Scott asked when I returned, having just finished his conversation with Isaac.

"Nothing," I shook my head.

"We have to think of something, he's gonna kill her!" Scott growled, clearly distressed.

"I _knew_ he was there," Lydia spoke up, drawing our attention. "How did I know that?"

Stiles bristled in confusion. "Because you heard the flies, right?"

"What do you hear now?" Scott asked eagerly, stepping forwards impatiently.

Lydia paused. "Nothing," she admitted with a sombre look on her pretty face. "I feel like I can do this," she said after a moment. "But I don't know what to do. It's like it's on the tip of my tongue, but I don't know how to trigger it."

She stalked away, clearly needing space. Her heart raced as she began to work herself up.

"I swear to God..." she murmured in distress, eyes wet as she tugged at her hair in frustration. "It literally makes me wanna scream."

I felt a flash of sympathy for the girl, she was so new, she needed help to learn to master her abilities, but I hadn't the slightest clue where I could send her. "Okay, then scream," Stiles said suddenly, stepping towards the distraught girl. "Lydia, _scream_."

The sound was loud and piercing. I'd never been so close to a wailing woman's scream before, and holy shit, did it hurt. The sound cut through my head like a knife, and I winced at the force of it as it hit me. It lasted for all but a few seconds, and I realised I had stumbled back into Stiles, who snaked an arm around my waist for support.

Then there was silence so intense that it only made my head ache more. Lydia was frozen, staring off into the distance with her head tilted like she was listening to something only she could hear. Slowly, her head lifted until it was angled up at the sky. I tilted my own head back, eyes sweeping the constellations that I could barely see, looking for answers. "It's not flies," she told us, sounding out of breath, like she'd just run a marathon. She spun around abruptly, and both boys jumped about a foot in the air in surprise and wariness. "It's electricity," she said with a large, pleased grin, taking no notice of the boys' fright.

"Barrow was an electrical engineer," Stiles spoke up, and I could see the cogs in his head whirring over and over. "He worked at a power substation."

There was a beat. "What substation?" Scott demanded.

"I don't know," Stiles stammered for a moment, desperately trying to come up with the answer. "Uh – the one on the edge of town, in the industrial district...I think!" he shouted suddenly, the information coming to him in a flash.

Scott whirled around to catch my eyes. "Jules," he said bracingly, even as I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet in preparation for the command. "Run."

The power station was easy enough to find, and when I got there I could hear a muted conversation happening inside, along with the fierce hum of electricity. I paused for a moment, summoning my strength and agility, mentally preparing myself as I headed inside the building.

"Why does your blood smell like something crawled into your body and died?" As witty-one-liners went, I could have done better, but my focus was split. The man – Barrow, I assumed – spun around, one hand holding a lead out to the side, electricity sparking from the end like flames. "You alright, Kira?" I asked the girl over the buzz of the power.

"Juliet?!" she yelled back, staring across at me incredulously, clearly having no idea why, of all people, the weird goth girl from her History class was the one to show up.

"You're one of them!" Barrow said, narrowing his beady little eyes at me and shifting his stance, clutching the glowing lead tighter.

"Not quite," I responded calmly, taking a few steps forward. Electricity didn't render me useless as it did wolves, it was just a giant pain in the ass. "But if you like my friends' glowing eyes, you're gonna _love_ what mine can do."

He surged forwards, but I wasn't in the mood, and with one well-aimed hit to the head, he went down like a deadweight, falling to the cement floor with a crack.

Engines roared from outside the station. I could still hear Barrow's heartbeat, and figured I should get the girl out before I painted the walls red with his blood. One thing was certain, he wouldn't be leaving this station alive.

"It _is_ Kira, right?" I asked to confirm as I crouched down beside her, ripping at her bindings.

She shot me in incredulous look as I freed her, and I winced uncomfortably.

"I'm not good with names," I continued quietly, reaching down to take her hand and help her up.

"What are you _doing_ here?" she asked in pure confusion. Her expression suddenly changed to one of panic as she caught sight of something over my shoulder. I looked back, meeting Scott's eyes through the dark. Barrow slithered out from the shadows, having recovered from my hit, and Kira cried, "Scott, no! Look out!"

The electricity was enough to send the young alpha flying back into the metal gate surrounding the room. As soon as Scott was no longer a threat, Barrow turned to us girls, stalking towards us like a predator hunting it's prey. He had no eyes for me, focused completely on Kira who was hyperventilating from behind me. I shifted my weight so I was in front of the innocent girl, my fangs sliding into view as I growled protectively.

"Don't!" Scott all but begged from the floor. "She's not the one you want!"

"Stop, before I have to put you down," I warned the man. He barely blinked, continuing to wander forwards, lead held out threateningly. I groaned in annoyance, finally darting forwards and ducking under the weapon, landing a hit to his gut that made him grunt, then a smack to his head that should have had him seeing spots.

"Juliet!" Kira yelled in alarm.

As I heard her footsteps rush towards me, thinking she would in some way save me, I spun around, shouting, "Don't!" It was too late, Kira rammed into us with a grunt, and everything exploded in a haze of bright, headache-inducing white.

I got a taste of what Lydia had been hearing all day as the only sound I could hear was the irritating hum of electricity. My entire body stung, like I was a human bitten by a hundred-thousand fire ants. I groaned, attempting to flex my fingers as I began to recover.

"Motherfucker," I grumbled furiously, blinking up at the cement ceiling blankly as my body slowly healed itself, watching as the bright, white like flickered against the rock.

I pushed myself up, my head humming unpleasantly. I spun around as quickly as I could, searching for the source of the blinding light. Kira stood in the corner, hands held out as she seemed to, somehow, draw the live electricity into her palms with all the ease of a fish breathing in water.

It seemed to last an eternity, but finally the lights disappeared, sunken into her skin without leaving a trace of a mark.

Fury filled me as I saw proof that this girl was anything but a regular human.

What did she know? What did she _want?_

"Jules!" Scott shouted, seeing the deadly expression on my face before it had even fully formed. He shoved himself to his feet, glancing over at Kira who suddenly looked terrified. "Stop!" he ordered, but I was barely even paying enough attention to catch his barked word.

"What are you?" I demanded the girl, grasping her by the shoulders and slamming her into the metal mesh blocking the machines from the public. She yelped in fear, eyes widening as she began to shake.

"_Juliet_!" Scott growled, appearing at my side and grasping my shoulder, attempting to yank me back and away from his new crush.

"What. Are. You?" I repeated, putting an order in every syllable.

"I-I don't know!" she responded, and though her heart was racing, it didn't stutter with the guilt of a lie. She was telling the truth.

"How did you do that?" I barrelled on furiously, my forearm braced across her throat, not cutting off her air, but very obviously showing I was able to should I decide to.

"I don't know!" she insisted, eyes filling with tears.

"Juliet, that's _enough_!" Scott snapped, grasping me by both shoulders and prying me away from the shaking girl.

I let him pull me back, glaring at him the whole time. "How do we know she's not a threat?!" I pressed, my green orbs narrowed at his puppy-dog eyes.

"You're scaring her," he hissed at me quietly, and I glanced back at the petrified girl, feeling a stab of guilt that I refused to acknowledge. "Go find Stiles and cool down," he ordered me, and though I could see sternness clear across his features, there was also understanding, which definitely hurt more. "Now, Juliet."

I wanted to make a comment about how he wasn't my alpha, but I'd admitted to being a member of his pack more times than I could count, and I couldn't pick and choose the times it applied to me. With a reluctant and resentful glare I spun around and stalked from the room. "Make sure she keeps her mouth shut when the cops give us the third degree," I murmured, quietly enough that only he would hear.

I didn't look back to see him nod, but I knew he would do so anyway, he knew the risks exposure posed.

"Stiles?" I asked loudly, slipping from the main room and into a large, empty space that remained unused. I spotted him in the centre of the room, his back turned to me as he seemed to stare into the inky darkness. "Stiles?" I asked again, a deep and unsettled feeling appearing heavy in my gut like an anvil. He was too still. "Stiles!" I snapped, thankful my voice didn't shake with fear.

He didn't move. I was at his side in the next second, and my hand clasped down on his shoulder, turning him to face me. "Jules?" he asked cautiously, blinking at me tentatively like I'd been the one acting strange.

"Are you okay?" I asked immediately, eyes roaming his form, looking for anything to explain the disturbing feeling I'd just experienced.

"Yeah," he said, gaze clouding over for a long moment before he refocused on me. "What happened?"

I hesitated, wondering if I should address what had just happened, before deciding there were more important things to focus on. "Barrow's dead and Kira's supernatural."

Stiles paused, digesting my words. "Can you repeat that last part?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

I started again, going through everything that he had missed. By the time we could hear the sirens blaring in the distance, I'd mostly forgotten about the strange incident that had just occurred, focused on keeping an eye on Kira and everything she said to the police.

* * *

"So, Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira, then Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town."

We paused, taking in the flimsy cover story we'd created.

"...sounds about right," Stiles murmured with a nod.

"How'd you know he'd take her to a power station?"

I winced, okay, so the story had a few holes. "Well because he was an electrical engineer," my boyfriend continued, and I threw my legs into his lap as I got more comfortable where I was squished in between him and the side of the couch we were all piled onto. "Where else would he take her?" he countered, hands finding their place on my knees.

"That's one hell of a deduction there, Stiles," McCall responded curtly, eyeing him with nothing but suspicion.

"What can I say? I take after my pops, he's in law enforcement," Stiles shot a wink to his father, who chortled loudly, quickly covering the sound with a few heavy coughs that made me smirk. I pressed my lips together to hide it, enjoying seeing the Agent get exactly what he deserved.

"Stiles, just answer the man," John murmured once he'd collected himself.

"We made a good guess."

"And you just happened to have your girlfriend along for the ride?" he asked through narrowed eyes. "Why would you let her into that kind of dangerous situation?" he questioned, and though I knew he was only trying to get a rise out of me, I still couldn't help but snap back.

"Nobody _lets_ me do _anything_," I told him through a snarl. Stiles' hands tightened their grip on my knees, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over my cool skin.

"And why are you dressed like Little Bo Peep?" he asked, clear revulsion on his face.

"First of all, I'm Alice Liddell, you uncultured swine," the sheriff smothered another snicker, making me hum with pride, "and second of all, the combination of Halloween and this being a free country gives me a free pass to wear whatever the hell I want," I responded, my voice mockingly sweet.

Agent McCall shot me a look that told me exactly how little he liked me before finally leaving me alone and turning to Scott and Kira. I was glad to be out of the spotlight, leaning into Stiles' touch but keeping my eyes fixed on the Agent, watching his every move. "What were you two doing?"

"Eating pizza."

"Eating sushi."

They paused awkwardly, eyeing each other before replying in opposites, making his father's eyebrows shoot to his hairline skeptically.

"Eating sushi and pizza," they finally corrected themselves, looking angry at how suspicious they sounded.

"You believe this?" he asked John over his shoulder incredulously.

"To be honest, I haven't believed a word Stiles has said since he learned how to speak," the sheriff responded, and I was glad he'd found a way to at least answer somewhat honestly. "But I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time, and the girl sitting there is very lucky for it."

The Agent narrowed his eyes at the 'lucky' girl, who was clearly our weakest link. "Kira," he began reproachfully, giving her a chance to come clean. "Is that how you remember it?"

All of us leaned forwards, but none more than me. I met her eyes, a warning in mine. She gulped, but the sound was soft enough that nobody but Scott and I picked up on it. "Yes," she finally responded, heart hammering in her chest as she looked away from me nervously. "Could I get my phone back now?" she asked, and I found it odd that that was her first thought.

"Sorry, but no," McCall responded cooly.

We were all silent. "Can we leave?" I asked, merely a curtesy. Literally nothing could stop me from walking out of the room at any point.

He narrowed his eyes, looking like he more than anything wanted to say no, but couldn't find a plausible reason to do so. "Okay," he finally nodded reluctantly, and we all stood to our feet before he could change his mind.

The others filed out of the room, but Stiles hung back to talk with his dad. Not wanting to leave but not sure if I could stay, I hovered awkwardly in the doorway. "We're gonna head home," he told the sheriff, who nodded his head.

"I have to stay here for another few hours," he replied quietly. "But I'll be home before dawn."

"Do you need me to bring you some food?"

"I'll be fine. Get some sleep, Stiles." He paused, glancing over at me knowingly. "You too, Jules," he added. I had been looking away so it didn't seem like I was listening in, but clearly the jig was up. I turned back to them, smiling to cover a wince and waving at him politely. "I'll see you at home."

With that he turned back to his paperwork, dismissing us, though not unkindly. Stiles walked to the door, nudging me out over him. We slipped passed a frowning Agent McCall, nodding politely at the officer at the front desk before slipping out into the parking lot, moving directly over to the Jeep and climbing inside.

"At least Kira stuck to the story," Stiles said conversationally as he started the car, turning out onto the main road. "She'll want an explanation tomorrow, no doubt. What're we gonna tell her?"

"It's up to Scott," I answered with a shrug, and he nodded in agreement.

We were silent the remainder of the drive, no sound filling the car but the soft notes of some kind of modern, indie music, guitar strings reverberating through the cab.

It was silently decided that I would stay with Stiles, and he pulled into his driveway, turning the car off and sliding out onto the grass. I toed my shoes off at the door, grateful when my feet slipped from the small heels and onto the flat floor, tugging my jacket off from my dress and hanging it up on a hook.

We ended up in the shower, one of my all-time favourite places to end a day with him. We were both exhausted, and managed to get through it as efficiently as possible, minimal groping involved in the process. Stiles' hands felt like pure heaven as they wound through my hair, rinsing out the shampoo from my raven locks, and I leaned my head on his chest as the soap ran off our bodies. He was so exhausted that not even my naked and wet form could get his heart racing, and his eyes were fluttering shut.

We collapsed into bed, and I nuzzled into his pleasant heat, affectionately brushing my lips across his throat.

This is where I belonged, and I wasn't going to let my slip up cost me.

* * *

**A/N: One of my shortest chapters, and really just a filler if I'm being honest. Now, onto business:**

**I know I say I'm always gonna write all these stories and only few of them get posted – every story I've talked about will be put up, just give it time. Speaking of story ideas, I've got another one. This time I'm thinking _Doctor Who_ – and bare with me – a time stream jumper, Doctor/OC one. Now I know that there are dozens of stories like this floating around, but I've always adored the idea, and I've got some ways I think I could make mine unique.**

**So, my question to you is, is there any interest? Side note: I wouldn't do many episode re-writes, I'm thinking more of original adventures, with some cannon stuff mixed in - and it would be very romance-based, as are all my stories. Please let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas or requests, now's the time, because I'm laying out all the groundwork for the story.**

**Thanks for putting up with me so far, and be assured that there's still loads to come from me.**


	54. Rules Of Attraction

_Don't you know the path you're on is paved_

_With all the hearts you've been leaving broken and bleeding_

_And can't you see the life you're living only ends_

_With lying and cheating, hurt and deceiving_

Rules of Attraction – Joe Brooks

* * *

"Look, at the time of the killings, I was in Paris. News didn't really circulate very quickly back in the day, so by the time I found out about it, it was too late for me to try and track him – or her – down. Besides, at the time I thought he was brilliant, why would I have wanted to take him down?"

Stiles grinned from where he was shaking the plastic lock to his locker. "Did you just use 'back in the day' _un_-_ironically_?"

"You'd say it too if you were over two hundred years old," I responded defensively, crossing my arms over my costume, making my breasts stand out even more than usual. I'd changed out of my _Alice in Wonderland_ costume, deciding to spend the day dressed as a military officer with boots, shorts and a camouflage button-up, a set of dog tags hanging from around my neck.

Stiles certainly seemed to appreciate the change of costume, if the way he'd kissed me when he'd first seen me was anything to go by.

"Point taken; you're old and powerful," he murmured with a teasing eye roll, a dig I was sure I'd heard from him before. "We get it. You still let Jack the Ripper get away, though."

I tutted, rolling my eyes right back as I tipped my head back against the lockers, peering out over the students filling the corridors before class. "I'm not having this argument with you for a third time."

He opened his mouth to retort, only to cut himself off when he accidentally knocked something out of his locker. I acted on instinct as my hand snapped out and I plucked it from the air, holding the keys up for him to take, my attention still on the passing kids.

He murmured an absent thanks and took the keys from me, before pausing when something caught his eye. "Hello," he muttered thoughtfully, and I glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow. "Where did you come from?" he asked, staring down at a particular key on his keyring. I didn't recognise it, but that wasn't saying much – I wasn't such a clingy girlfriend that I memorised each of his keys, I had _some_ restraint.

"Incoming," I murmured as I spotted Scott pushing through the doors. Stiles' attention moved from the mysterious key to his best friend. He waved over at the wolf, but the alpha only had eyes for Kira, who was standing at the opposite end of the hall, staring back at him forlornly.

After a beat she turned and fled, ducking over to her locker in a clear move that told him not to follow her. He tried anyway, but my hand shot out and I grasped him by the collar, yanking him back to our side, stopping him from following her like a pathetic puppy.

"Scott, no. Stop," Stiles muttered to his friend, pressing a palm to his chest as he continued to struggle.

"I need to talk to her," the alpha argued, frowning at the pair of us.

"No you don't," Stiles replied quietly, the voice of reason. "You need to remember that someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her."

"Which is why I need to talk to her," he countered, miserably staring across the hall at the girl who was dead set on ignoring us.

"Scott, no way," Stiles had clearly put his foot down, waving his hands in the air to emphasise his point. "Until we figure out if she's just another psychotic monster that's gonna start murdering everybody, I vote against _any_ and _all _interaction."

For a moment Scott floundered for a rebuttal. "What if she's like me?" he finally settled on saying.

"She survived a lethal dose of electricity which she then _absorbed_ into her hands like something out of a comic book," I told him, my tone making my incredulity clear.

"She's not like you, Scott," Stiles added, gesturing in her direction. I glanced her way to see her head ducked down as she scurried down the hall, away from us, no doubt. The wolf looked put out, but also like he knew we had a point. He sighed, ducking his head and shuffling away sadly. "Where do you think this key came from?" my boyfriend asked curiously, attention back on the mysterious key in his hand.

"A locksmith, probably," I replied lightly, and he sent me an unimpressed look that rivalled my own. I smiled back innocently.

Classes passed by quickly. I was with Stiles for most of them – I'd changed my schedule at the beginning of term to make sure ours matched, so sue me – but we didn't talk much. People commented on my Halloween costume, and I conveyed to Stiles how perplexed I was that hardly anyone else was wearing one. He'd laughed like I'd said something funny then moved forward in the lunch line.

"Hey, cute costume," an familiar face said, and I looked up to see the boy from our year, Danny, grinning at me widely. "Just wanted to know if you guys were coming to my black light party tonight?" he asked, and my eyebrows scrunched confusedly.

"What party?"

"For Halloween," he explained. "You really didn't know about it?"

I hesitated. "I'm not really...'in the loop', as it were," I murmured in response, and he chuckled heartily.

He told me to come anyway, rattling off an address and telling me to pass the word around about the change in venue. He was gone before I could tell him that I'd rather spend it at home, giving out candy to kids dressed as vampires and lowering the temptation to snack on a sweaty, half-naked freshman.

"Did you know about the party tonight?" I asked Stiles as we wandered outside to eat our lunch.

"Danny's black light party?" he looked at me curiously, and I nodded.

"Yeah, it's gonna be great, all of his parties are-"

"Stiles! Jules!" Scott's familiar voice hissed from the tree on the front lawn during our free period, interrupting whatever Stiles had been saying.

We looked up, raising an eyebrow at the frantic wolf who rushed across the grass towards us.

"I need your help," the wolf said once he reached us.

I eyed him carefully, leaning back against the bark of the tree and waiting impatiently for him to continue.

"There's something on Kira's phone that nobody can see," he told us in a rush. My eyebrows hit my hairline, curiosity filling me. "I need you to get the keycards from your dad and help Kira and I to break into the station to get it back."

Stiles seemed stunned into silence by the strange request. "What's on the phone?" I asked slyly, eyeing the werewolf closely.

"It's not important," Scott finally answered, looking back at me with those puppy-dog eyes I was so familiar with.

I smirked widely, amusement bubbling up my chest. "It's a sex tape, isn't it?" I said with a devious grin. "Way to go, Scotty!"

"It's not-!" he cut himself off, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody could hear. "It's not a sex tape," he hissed at me, and I could see a red flush crawling up his neck and over his cheeks. "We're not even – I mean we haven't...we aren't-"

My smirk widened as Stiles snickered quietly from beside me. "What you do in the privacy of your own home is _your_ business," I assured him playfully, and Scott exhaled loudly before giving up on me and turning to an amused Stiles.

"I'm telling you, it isn't a sex tape!" he murmured, looking very close to losing his cool. He took a deep, steadying breath. "It's just some...personal pictures that she took...of herself...naked..." I raised both my eyebrow at him in surprise when I heard his heart stutter in a familiar way that I knew could only mean he was lying about something. Though I admitted there was a possibility it could have also been arousal, but I tried not to think about that option. "Can you get them?" he asked to get back on topic, studiously ignoring me.

Stiles snorted like he'd said something funny. "Of course I can get them," he replied confidently. "But are the pictures on that phone _really_ worth the chance of getting caught by your dad?"

Scott nodded assuredly. "Trust me," he told us. "They definitely are."

Stiles was silent for a moment and I recognised the look on his face as contemplative. He was figuring out the best plan of action – as he so often did. "Okay," he eventually said with a nod. "We'll get the cards after school, meet us around the back of the station at seven."

Scott thanked us with a smile and a clap on the shoulder, glancing around to make sure nobody overheard our dastardly plan.

* * *

Getting the keycards was so incredibly simple that a monkey could have done it. Not wanting his dad to find out they were gone, Stiles pulled one of his many tricks out of his sleeve and used some kind of device to copy them. I didn't understand any of the science behind it, or how the technology worked at all, but I was proud that Stiles could.

We arrived at the police station before the clearly-soon-to-be couple, parking the Jeep around the back of the building and turning on to a jazz station, the sounds of a saxophone filling the car.

"I wouldn't have taken Kira for someone who took raunchy pictures," Stiles said conversationally, tipping his seat back as we waited for the pair to arrive.

"Don't judge a book by it's cover," I murmured in response, a sly smile on my lips. I felt irritatingly loyal to Scott, and for that reason I didn't mention the way the wolf's heart stuttered as he'd lied to us about what was on the phone. As long as it didn't put anyone else in danger, I couldn't have cared less what was on the device.

Let them have their secrets, Lord knew it was healthy.

"Are you okay?" I asked him quietly after a long minute, and he looked over at me in surprise.

"Yeah," he answered instantly. "Why wouldn't I be?" My eyes narrowed, and he gulped silently at the look. "I mean, thing could be better, but you know how it is..."

I decided not to answer, he had a point. I let out a silent sigh, sinking further down into the seat and closing my eyes, hoping the time would pass quickly.

Finally the familiar sound of our friend's motorbike echoed through the alley, and a moment later Scott and Kira appeared from around the corner, the girl's arms wrapped securely around his waist. I smirked to myself as I listened to the sound of their hearts racing at the proximity.

"Okay, this one will get you into all the perimeter doors," Stiles said in lieu of a greeting, leaning out the window and offering the pair a set of keycards. "This one is the evidence room, and this one's for my father's office."

"...you didn't steal these, did you?" Scott asked in something like disapproval.

"Nah, I cloned them...using an RFID emulator."

Scott paused. "Is that _worse_ than stealing?" he questioned with a frown, and Kira stared through the window at us with wide eyes. Her gaze met mine and her heart rate skyrocketed, I could smell the fear on her as she took me in. I tilted my head at her innocently, and she sucked in a breath, turning back to the conversation at hand, trying to ignore my presence. I supposed I'd scared her more than I'd intended to the other night, though I couldn't find it within myself to feel guilty over it.

"...it's smarter," my boyfriend replied, and I smirked through the darkness at the wolf.

"Scott, can I ask you something?" Kira said suddenly, gesturing for Scott to follow her over to where she assumed we wouldn't be able to hear. Stiles bristled in indignation, and I shuffled over the seat, leaning into him to soothe his pique. "You didn't tell them anything, did you? About the pictures?" she asked warily.

"Oh, uh-no. I just told them that you have some pictures of you on your phone that you didn't want anyone to see," Scott replied.

"What're they saying?" Stiles asked me in an inquisitive whisper, and I reached out to press my finger to his lips, effectively shushing him.

"What kind of pictures?" Kira pressed.

"...naked pictures," the wolf responded stiltedly.

The girl stood frozen for a long moment, and I wondered if she was going to yell at him. "Oh, good idea," she responded suddenly with a calm, impressed smile.

"Cool," Scott nodded, clearly flooded with relief. They trotted back over to the Jeep, and I grinned toothily at then when they reappeared at the window.

"Okay," Stiles said condescendingly, making me smirk at his tone. "So nearly everybody's out dealing with the blackout, but there's always somebody at the front desk; dispatch, usually a night-shifter, so you guys are going to use the service entrance door by the dumpster," he told them, gesturing in the direction of the entry. "Nobody uses it. Now I'm going to text you if anybody comes out, but if you get caught, Scott, we can't help you. My dad's under investigation for impeachment – because of _your_ dad – so if anything happens we will run and leave you both for dead."

"I got it," Scott assured us with a nod. "Thanks – seriously, you guys," he continued, staring through the dark at us in gratitude.

"I'd ask my dad, y'know, but-"

"It's okay, I get it."

"Okay, just...hurry up."

The two scurried off, heading for the door with only a single look cast over their shoulder. "How long do you wanna bet until the two of them get together?" I asked Stiles lightly once they'd disappeared inside the building.

"I'm giving it at least a month," he replied, shifting back in his seat to face me. "You don't really want to go to the party tonight, do you?" he asked me unexpectedly.

I looked over at him and grimaced, finding myself unable to lie. "I was hoping to spend it at home with you, giving kids candy and watching shitty B-grade horror flicks, y'know?"

His heart leaped, and I smiled through the dark at him. "We could still do that, if you'd rather," he offered, but I could tell he wanted to go to the party.

"No," I shook my head. "It's been a while since we've done anything other than stay in, it'll be nice to get out and see our friends."

He agreed, glancing down distractedly at the keys in his grip, once again eyeing the mysterious key hooked onto the ring. "I still don't know where this came from," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

"You'll figure it out," I assured him gently. "Besides, I doubt it's anything bad." He was silent for a while longer. "You know, this would be so much easier if you hadn't given the whole station enough vervain to last a decade," I frowned over at him, half-playful and half-serious.

"My Dad asked for it, what was I supposed to do?" he responded slightly defensively.

"What did he think about all the packages of vervain you were receiving before he knew about us?"

"I told him I liked to have it in my tea."

"Stiles, you don't drink tea."

"That's probably why he didn't seem to believe me."

He was going to add more, but headlights suddenly shone in our faces, the sharp change in light making us both wince. "Oh hell," Stiles murmured as a familiar face got out of the car. Agent McCall didn't seem to notice or recognise the Jeep, walking straight past us like we weren't even there. Stiles pulled out his phone, frantically texting Scott. "Dammit, Scott," he cursed when his friend didn't respond. "Oh, I'm so going to regret this," he muttered a split second before diving out of the car.

"Stiles!" I hissed as quietly as I could, but my boyfriend paid me no attention. With a heavy huff I slid from the Jeep, appearing at his side, prepared to protect him from Agent McCall's _charming _personality.

He began to splutter nonsense at the Agent, who stared back at him cooly. I remained a silent support by his side, crossing my arms over my chest and tilting my head carefully at the man. He glanced at me but kept most of his focus on Stiles. Meanwhile, my attention was on the sounds coming from the evidence room behind me, keeping close tabs on what was happening with the pair hiding within.

"You know this attitude that you have towards my dad," Stiles said suddenly when the man tried to get through the wall we'd built. My focus snapped from Scott and Kira to the people before me, and I narrowed my eyes at the man whose heart doubled it's speed in his chest. "You can dress it up to all the professional disapproval that you want but I know the real reason you don't like him,"

"Is that so?" McCall asked, smirking condescendingly.

"Yeah, because he knows something that you don't want him to know," Stiles barrelled on. I felt surprise bubble within me, but I couldn't show it in front of the Agent, so I merely tilted my head up a fraction more and grit my teeth against my own confusion. "And guess what?" he continued softly. "I know it too."

"Go home, Stiles, and take your girlfriend with you," the man ordered us, saying the word _girlfriend_ with heavy disdain. "There's a curfew."

I wasn't really listening, Scott and Kira were out of danger by then, already on their way out of the station. Stiles stalked from the room, and I followed him, slipping out the closing back door and out into the cool night air.

"What was that all about?" I asked him cautiously as we approached the Jeep.

"It's nothing," he waved off my question like it was ridiculous.

I frowned, shuffling closer, the gravel crunching under my heavy-duty combat boots. "It didn't sound like nothing," I probed, leaning against the door to the car and watching him carefully.

"Well it _was_ nothing, Jules," he snapped uncharacteristically. "Just let it go."

The force of the bark was enough to have me stepping back. I raised my eyebrows in surprise at his sharp tone, waiting for remorse to show on his face, though none appeared. "What aren't you telling me?" I asked suspiciously, and his heart leapt.

"What a good question," he said, sounding more bitter than I'd anticipated. "I could ask you the exact same thing."

I sighed, the sound irritated and defensive. "I thought we were over this," I murmured with a heavy frown.

"Yeah, well it goes both ways, doesn't it?"

He had a point, but somehow I doubted that whatever he was keeping from me had to do with uncontrollable bloodlust and a growing pile of dead bodies.

Before I could say anything else, footsteps hitting the road met my ears, and I turned around to face Kira and Scott as they approached.

"We did it, all the pics deleted!" Scott said proudly, grin wide on his face as they came to a stop in front of us.

"That was _awesome_!" Kira enthused, sounding absolutely exhilarated as she beamed at us brightly. I raised my eyebrows at her curiously. "I mean, completely terrifying." she corrected, forcing herself to calm down. "But...kind of awesome. I've never done anything like that before, have _you_?"

We all fell silent, Stiles and I glancing at Scott but definitely not each other. "Yeah, once or twice," Stiles answered her with a suppressed smirk.

"It's never involved sexy pictures before," I added with a lazy and completely forced grin. "But there's a first time for everything."

Kira's heart still raced when her eyes met mine, and that coupled with the tension hanging between Stiles and I made the whole thing incredibly awkward. "Well, I guess I should take you home," Scott spoke up to ease the uncomfortable silence. With a final thank you, they wandered over to Scott's bike.

"Come on," Stiles said darkly, gesturing to the Jeep.

"I'll just meet you there," I told him cooly, and his face dropped in disbelief.

"Don't be ridiculous," he countered with a stern frown.

"I could do with the fresh air." It wasn't a completely lie, and I felt no guilt over saying it. It seemed like I'd been feeling less and less guilt over the last few days – I wasn't sure it was such a good sign.

"Jules, come on," he said, voice imploring.

"I'll see you there," I insisted before I disappeared from the alley, passing Scott and Kira on the bike and heading out into the streets.

I was angry, though more at myself than anyone else. I'd started this whole thing by keeping such a secret from Stiles. I stopped running halfway to Derek's loft, slowing to a furious walk. I was stewing, and I knew I shouldn't have been. It almost felt whiney, but I couldn't stop myself. I blamed my frozen development, but that was a debate for another day.

I kicked at a discarded can, watching disinterestedly as it smacked into the wall before bouncing off back onto the road.

I could hear the sounds of the party that was in full swing by the time I turned onto Derek's street. Cars were parked all along the street, and I spotted the Jeep and Scott's bike parked on the side of the road, meaning they were already here.

I sighed, knowing the first thing I had to do was find Stiles and apologise, then spend the night with him, having a good time. That was my priority.

The music was loud when I stepped inside Derek's loft, and the room was simply glowing with bright colours. I inhaled the smells of the room – sweat, paint, alcohol and arousal. Once upon a time, I would be in my element, now I just felt out of place. With my switch flicked on, all I could think about was the repercussions of letting go and truly enjoying myself.

Nonetheless, I stepped into the room, and Stiles was upon me before I'd even slid the door shut behind me.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" he yelled over the music, and I frowned confusedly. "Look, I'm sorry for everything. Let's just enjoy our Halloween, okay?" he suggested. "It is your favourite holiday, after all."

I melted in the way that Stiles could only ever achieve. He seemed determined to enjoy the night, and I couldn't find it in me to stop him.

Though I was still irritated and absolutely nothing had been resolved, I still pushing myself up to my toes to press our lips together roughly.

I pulled back, smiling at him through the black lights, hoping he couldn't tell that the expression was forced. I wasn't angry, and I wasn't disappointed – except maybe in myself. I just felt...flat. "Come on," he prompted me once he'd recovered from the kiss. "Let's get covered in paint!" He sounded lighthearted and bright, but I could tell he was trying to cover his own negative emotions from the last few days.

Thankfully we didn't have to be on good terms to be effected by one another. Stiles grasped my shirt, quickly unhooking all the buttons and revealing my white tank top that was hastily cut to just below the bottom curve of my breasts.

I just stared at him as he flicked paint at me, appreciating the way his tongue stuck out as he concentrated. Once he was happy with the amount of paint on me, he stepped forwards, running his fingers through the mess, smearing it further on my skin. He was gentle and tender as his fingers slid over the swell of my breasts; I got the feeling it was less about getting the paint right than it was about touching me.

I loved roughness, but there was something about the tenderness that took my breath away. I just wished the roughness wasn't so damn tempting.

I couldn't handle the delicate way his fingers slid over my skin, it made bitterness curl in my stomach like a bad batch of blood. "I'll be back!" I shouted to Stiles over the music, moving closer to his ear so he could hear me. He pulled back, looking disappointed and lost by my subtle rejection.

I couldn't handle the sad look on his face, and with a heart heavier than usual, I walked away, hating the way my eyes stung.

I found a quiet corner to hide in, hoping I didn't look as brooding as I felt. I stared out at all of the people writhing against each other like bitches in heat. Part of me – a part that had long since begun to fade – wished to be able to be with them. With my tolerance to blood so low, however, I couldn't risk getting in the middle of the throngs, especially not with so much of their tempting skin exposed.

"Juliet?!" I looked to my left, eyeing a painted Allison and Isaac, their hands linked together almost absent-mindedly. Isaac murmured that he was going to get them beers, then disappeared into the thick, sweaty crowd.

"Allison," I greeted her flatly, nodding my head in her direction. "Long time, no see."

"I thought I just saw you..." she trailed off confusedly, gesturing over her shoulder. Her eyes went super wide and her jaw dropped for a moment before she seemed to recover. "But Stiles was...that wasn't you?!"

"Am I supposed to know what _any_ of that means?" I asked sourly, my brows furrowing in her direction. Her heart stuttered and a severely guilty look appeared on her stunning, luminescent features. "Stiles was what, Allison?" I prompted her when she said nothing, and I could sense the fear as she began to panic, not sure how to handle the conversation.

She seemed to argue with herself for a moment before apparently one side won and she sighed, pointing in the direction of the door. "He's over there," she told me, and, worried that something was wrong, I ducked through the crowd until I came to a stop at the big sliding door.

It took me a moment to find my boyfriend, but once I did I wished I hadn't.

He was jogging towards me, keys jingling in his hand and a concerned look on the face that I loved so very much. "Jules! I was just looking for you! Something's wrong-" he cut himself off, realising the look on my face wasn't a friendly one.

Tears stung in my eyes and I grit my teeth tightly, hoping the pressure would make them go away.

"Jules, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, stepping closer and raising a hand towards me. I flinched back, and instantly he froze, shocked that I'd reacted so strongly. "Jules?" he asked again, heart speeding up in fear. I pressed my lips together in a firm line, lifting my hand and brushing my thumb across his lips.

"You look like you've been having fun," I commented, my voice sounding flat and sad.

He seemed to realise at the same moment what I had deducted. There was paint smeared around his mouth in a way that was only possible from kissing. And it hadn't been me.

"Oh, my God," he murmured in shock, frantically wiping at his lips, getting rid of the evidence, though it did little good now. "Jules, listen-"

"I get it Stiles," I spat, the sadness fading into something more like indignation or scorn.

"No, you don't understand, nothing happened-" he cut himself off, glancing down at something in his hands. I spied the fucking keys in his fingers, rolling my eyes in irritation. "Look, I really have to go," he said suddenly, talking loudly to be heard over the music, even though I would have heard him if he'd whispered.

"You have to go," I repeated, dumbfounded. "You're not going to explain?"

"I don't-I don't have time, Juliet," he stammered, and my eyes burned with betrayal. "Look, this is really important," he was already walking past me, desperate to reach the door. "I'll come by later and we'll talk. I love you!" he called the last sentence out as he disappeared around the corner, heading straight for the stairs.

I toyed with the idea of following him, but decided I didn't even want to look at him.

The knowledge of what had just happened was like icicles stabbing in my gut. My hands shook and my chest felt heavy.

I wanted to kill something. It'd been a long time since I'd felt that so intensely. I wanted to watch the life drain from some little insect of a person as I devoured them whole. I was _hungry_.

Deciding I wasn't going to ruin the party with a murder, I put my hunger issues on the back burner, deciding to instead drown my sorrows with alcohol.

Three beers in and I still felt next to nothing. I was able to find some kid who had smuggled in a bottle of vodka. "You're going to give this to me," I ordered the teen covered in blue paint.

"I'm giving this to you," he repeated as he was caught in my gaze, and I all but ripped the bottle from his loose grip, stalking away with my prize and slipping into the centre of the crowd. The music seemed louder and the colours brighter as I chugged the vodka, stopping every few moments to breathe, telling myself I didn't want to lose control because I was shit faced.

A strong, hard and warm body saddled up behind me, the muscles brushing my back. I didn't even stop to think, letting the music take me to another place altogether as my body moved of it's own accord. The music wasn't really my style now, but it was pre-Beacon Hills me very much, and I could've use a little of that girl's strength right about then.

Everything got kind of blurry, and after a good fifteen minutes of grinding with the hot stranger, I decided I was being pathetic, and forced my way out of the crowd, heading over to the doors. I slid it open and hopped out into the entryway, moving over to the stairs and staring down into the dark abyss below me as I intermittently sipped at my vodka.

I took some deep breaths, ignoring the gaping hole in my gut as I focused on putting everything aside and having a kickass Halloween in spite of everything.

I was about to turn around and go back to the party when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I was being watched. Slowly, I glanced over my shoulder, unable to hold in a gasp when I saw three men standing behind me, dressed in all black robes with creepy looking masks fixed onto their faces.

I could tell they weren't from the party, in fact I had a feeling they weren't even human.

"Can I help you?" I asked anyway, delicately putting the glass bottle at my feet and discretely cracking my knuckles in preparation for a fight. I hoped they would attack, I was _dying _to lay my fist into some faces, and everyone would be a lot happier with me if it didn't end up being innocent bystanders.

An odd, disturbing kind of clicking sound seemed to come from the place where their mouths should have been as they slowly wandered closer to me, not even seeming to really take steps, they more so _glided_ along the shadows.

"You're making a mistake, boys," I said, rolling my neck, ignoring how the world tipped sideways for a long moment before holding up my fists, ready for a fight.

The clicking sound reappeared, this time from behind me. With a gasp I spun around, a furious glare on my face. Then the shadows pounced, they all seemed to converge on me at once. Everything went dark and cold, hands like ice grabbed me from every angle, and I grunted as the world tipped over again, my head spinning – though I wasn't sure that was entirely the alcohol's fault.

With my body distracted, my mind flew to Stiles, and I felt a sickening curl of pain that had nothing to do with the evil mask-wearers, then a burn behind my ear, and then I was alone, staring up at the ceiling, unable to move as my body went numb.

* * *

I wasn't sure how long it had been, but some time later a familiar face appeared in my vision. "Jules?" Derek asked, frowning down at me in that severe way he always seemed to go with. I realised I was shaking, my hands trembling as he reached down and lifted me to my feet. "Oh, you're alive," he said with a flat expression, almost sounding disappointed. "Well, partially."

I wanted to yell at him that this wasn't an appropriate time for vampire humour, but I couldn't get my mouth to cooperate.

"Why is there a party happening in my loft?" he asked, tone deadly, but frowned when it became clear I couldn't answer.

"H-Halloween," I tried to say, but it came out shaky and muted.

"Jesus, it happened to you too?" he asked curtly, but I was too freezing to answer his question, or ask what the fuck it meant. "Well, you probably deserved it."

"Ass-asshole," I stuttered, still shaking. I hadn't been this cold in 200 years; vampires didn't feel the change in temperatures, so why was I so cold that I was shivering? How did humans deal with this for half a year every year? I'd stake myself if I had to be this cold all the time.

"Well, I see your wit is intact," he murmured in response, frowning at me heavily. "Come on," he said, grasping my arm to help me walk in a move of uncharacteristic kindness. "I have a party to put an end to."

He dragged me back through the crowd, but everything was a whirl of bright, glowing colours and the smell of sweat and beer. The world felt like it was tipping over at Derek shoved me into a corner then effectively put an end to the party – as promised.

"_Get out_!" the words were yelled with such power that it made my spinning head ache. I winced, leaning back against the wall and watching as people began to rush from Derek's loft, too afraid of the scary looking wolf to question why.

As people began to leave and more of the space was revealed, it became obvious that there were several people here who most certainly did not belong. From the corner of my eye I saw Scott appear from the stairs with Kira in tow. Once all the painted strangers were gone, everything was silent for one, long, tense beat before all of the masked figures turned towards one of the twins.

"Guys," the twin said cautiously, shifting back a few steps. "They're all looking at me." All the figures took a threatening step forwards. "Why are they all looking at me?" the twin demanded frantically, heart racing in fear as he tried to assess the danger. "Guys?!" he prompted when they all took another step towards him.

It was something like instinct that made me turn my head to the right to catch Scott's eye, then to the left to catch Derek's. In an instant a decision was made between us, and when the figures took yet another step forwards, we attacked as one.

I went for the one closest to me, but quickly realised what a mistake that was. I was still incredibly weak from their attack on me only mere minutes ago, and when I swung at the cloaked figure to my right, it ducked my swing with ease, spinning away from me with all the grace of a ballerina.

I abandoned that one, spotting another one standing with it's back to me. With a silent hiss I pounced, throwing myself onto it's back and hooking my hands around it's masked head before ruthlessly twisting. The neck snapped, and I let go, slinking back down to my feet and turning around to attack the next one, only for there to be an odd noise, kind of like the crackling of a fire, and two arms wrapped around my middle.

I was weightless for a long moment as I seemed to float, then my body smacked into the thick wall of the loft, my head cracking against the bricks, and I felt blood drip down my temple.

I groaned as everything spun again, like I was on some kind of shitty ten dollar carnival ride, and I pressed my forehead to the floor, waiting for the dizziness to stop.

"Somebody do something," Allison cried from where she stood, but I barely had the strength to lift my head, let alone take on these fucking ghost-samurais. I winced as a bright light burned from behind my closed lids, and I squinted, trying to see what was happening, just in time to see the sun peeking through the windows, and the figures disintegrated into dust.

Someone crouched by my head, and I looked up expecting Scott or Allison, and was floored when the kind face of Kira appeared in my view. She held out a hand to help me up, and after only a moment of brief hesitation I took it, allowing her to help tug me to my feet.

If she noticed my colder-than-average skin, she didn't mention it.

"What the hell were those things?" Scott asked the room at large, and everyone was silent, nobody knowing what to say.

Then out of nowhere, heads began to turn in my direction, wolves and humans alike staring at me expectantly. "I'm old, not all-knowing," I snapped, one hand braced on the bricks to keep myself upright, the other one pressed against my slowly healing head wound.

They looked put out by my lack of insight, but then suddenly Isaac spoke aloud, looking over at Allison with narrowed eyes. "Your dad's twenty-four hours are up."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you guys like this one, though I have a feeling some of you are gonna hate me. And, though it probably won't help to know this – things are going to get _much _worse before they get better.**

**I've decided to definitely go ahead with my Doctor Who story, and it's in the works as we speak, but don't expect it up for a few months at the least.**

**In other news, I think I'm going to take down 'Take A Sad Song'. I'm probably never going to update it again – I rushed into it and lost motivation too quickly – so it doesn't seem fair to keep it up. **

**Let me know your thoughts on all of these matters, and I'll be back soon with a chapter some of you are going to love and some of you are going to absolutely hate...I love you!**


	55. Death Rattle

_Oh well I never cared if you were there_

_But I loved you more than I could say_

_But I was scared of the repercussions I would face if you had left_

_But I guess it doesn't matter now, it doesn't matter now_

_Your nights spent shouting at the stars and moon_

_I never could sleep tight with them watching over you_

_Oh but you never were a lonely lover holding on to me_

_And now you're all alone_

_Yeah you can't stray from what you are_

_You're the closest thing to hell I've seen so far_

_**Yeah you can't stray from what you are**_

_**You're the closest thing to hell I've seen so far**_

Death Rattle – Mallory Knox

* * *

I wasn't sure who I was more angry at; Stiles or myself.

I didn't sleep at all, not able to get a minute of rest in after everything that had happened. Besides, school started mere hours after the events in the loft, and though Scott and Allison asked me to go speak to papa-hunter with them, I needed time to calm down and blow off steam.

I was furious and resentful, hating everyone and everything around me; it was better for everyone if I just stayed away from all living creatures in general.

Two bags of blood and a broken punching bag later, I was walking towards the school. It was November now, and I reluctantly let go of my penchant for costumes, instead going back to my trusty leather jeans, bulky old boots and plain white shirt. I wanted to throw one of Stiles' flannels over the top, but I didn't want to be surrounded by his scent all day; it would only be a reminder of all the bad happening around us at the moment.

I knew I had to face him, knew we had to talk. I was waiting on an explanation about the kiss he shared with some slag during the party, and though I was hurt and betrayed that it had happened, I was willing to hear him out before I jumped to any conclusions.

So despite the fact that I was irritated and my pride was bruised, I still stood tall as I stood outside the entrance to the school, cigarette in hand as I waited for my human boyfriend to arrive.

He didn't notice me when he walked passed, I had to step out in front of him to get his attention. His heart leapt and he flinched violently, placing a hand on his chest. "Someone's jumpy," I commented lightly, hoping to ease his tension.

Instead of scoffing or rolling his eyes, he frowned, a severe expression on his features. His heart didn't calm, continuing to race from under his sternum. He said nothing, eyeing me in something like panic, like he wasn't sure what to say. It made me sad, because conversation with Stiles had always come so easily.

What had changed?

"Wanna skip first period?" I suggested softly, dropping what remained of my cigarette to the concrete and stepping on it with the thick sole of my boot. "We can go across the road for coffee and talk?"

"I can't," he said the instant I was done speaking, like he'd been thinking of his response the whole time, not even listening to what I'd been saying. "I'm busy."

"Stiles," I said his name with a frown, stepping closer, only to be hurt when he shifted away from me. "What's wrong?"

He winced like my question caused him physical pain. "I have to go," he told me hurriedly, keeping his head down, his heart rate not calming but instead, if anything, speeding up.

He tried to step around me, but I refused to let him leave, stepping in front of him and blocking his exit. "We _need_ to talk, Stiles," my tone was deadly serious.

"And we will, later," he said quickly, like he was distracted. He tried stepping around me again, and this time I didn't stop him, letting him brush passed me and disappear into the building, leaving me feeling painfully hollow and full of self-loathing.

I wasn't completely sure what was wrong, but I had a feeling it was my fault. I'd been lying to him about my resistance to blood, lied by omission when I didn't tell him about the people I'd recently slaughtered. Stiles had good instincts, of _course_ he was picking up on my dishonesty. He knew I was keeping something from him, and it was pushing him away.

I resolved to give him some space, deciding that once he'd calmed down enough to talk to me, I'd sit him down and tell him absolutely everything.

Maybe then he could help me to heal whatever damage Kol had inflicted.

I had a feeling he might have been my only hope.

* * *

I was at lunch, halfway through a crappy cheese sandwich from the cafeteria as I lounged on the bleachers, staring out over the empty lacrosse field, when somebody came into my line of sight, a cocky grin spread across his face.

"Julie, right?" the newcomer asked, feigning confusion.

"Juliet," I corrected him with a scowl, less than pleased by his approach, still bitter from what had happened with Stiles that morning. "Are you lost?"

The guy laughed like I'd cracked the funniest joke he'd ever heard. "I've been watching you," he said, dopey grin fixed on his face.

"You probably shouldn't lead with that," I replied flatly, arching one sharp brow at him judgementally. "It sounds creepy."

His expression didn't falter, remaining ridiculously bright with a hint of sly – like he was trying to come across as sexy. I wasn't unused to male attention, but I most certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with it today. "We should go out some time," he said confidently, as though the chance of me saying no was slim to none. "You, me, a bottle of wine...whaddya say?" He reached out a hand like he was expecting me to take it.

"I think I'd need more than a single bottle of wine to even consider looking at you twice," I said blandly, picking up my apple and biting into it, chewing as I disinterestedly awaited his response.

He seemed thrown by my uninterested words. The sun was beating down on us, and though I didn't sweat, the human boy did. He wiped a hand across his shiny forehead, and I grimaced as I took another bite of my lunch.

He leaned closer to me, and my body froze as his scent wafted over me – he smelt of freshly mown grass and wood chips. Suddenly the only sound I could hear was the wet, gluggy and delicious beating of his heart; the only thing I could see was the blue of his veins, blood coursing so very close to the surface.

My mouth filled with saliva and my hands tensed into fists. The breath left me in a sharp huff that the cocky son-of-a-bitch took as arousal, grinning arrogantly, completely oblivious to the lethal danger that was inches from his throat.

I tried to mentally list all the reasons I had to resist, but as I began, I found that there were very few. I was so _hungry_, I might as well have been a newborn.

"You need to leave," I spat through clenched teeth, and there was a crunching sound as the apple in my hand got crushed under my grip.

"Don't be like that, baby," he crooned, grin widening, revealing rows of pearly white teeth that made my fangs ache, demanding to be noticed. "Nobody's around, we can have all the fun we want."

I realised he was right. My senses expanded, taking in everything within human hearing distance, and I confirmed that there was indeed nobody in the immediate area.

No witnesses.

I stifled a groan, the list of reasons to resist getting smaller with every passing second. He leaned even closer, encouraged by the ravenous look on my face.

He opened his mouth to say something, but it was the last straw, and a beat later I had his head in my hands, impatiently pushing aside his teeshirt so I could sink my fangs into the smooth skin at his shoulder.

He tried to shout, but my left hand reached around to press against his lips, stifling his cries. He was divine, the metallic blood pooling on my tongue, making me moan into his skin. I swallowed mouthful after mouthful, not bothering to keep up the pretence of breathing.

I didn't break from my stupor until I heard the frantic sound of his heart begin to slow. I was killing him.

I ripped away from him, and he tumbled down the bleachers, coming to a stop in the dirt at the base, head lolling as he lost consciousness, a bloody stain on his shirt.

"Motherfucker," I cursed furiously. If I had a heartbeat, it would have been racing in pure panic.

What had I done?

I had to act quickly, who knew when somebody would walk onto the field and see the evidence of my slip-up? Power coursing flowing through me in a way only a fresh attack could achieve, I was by my victim's side in a blink, leaning over him and gently slapping his face, my unbeating heart in my throat.

"Wake up!" I ordered the boy whose name I didn't know, putting all of my supernatural persuasion into my voice. With a pained groan he blinked open his bright blue eyes, wincing up at me groggily. I couldn't leave him with my bite mark on his shoulder, if it got back to she Sheriff that I'd been chewing on high school students' necks, I was done for.

The thought of blood sharing with this tool bag made me feel physically ill, but there was little I could do. With a disgusted grunt I bit into the skin of my wrist. Blood trickled down my hand but I cared little as I shoved the bloody appendage into his mouth, holding it there until he'd swallowed the absolutely bare minimum he needed to to heal the evidence my fangs had left.

I pulled away as soon as I was able, and his eyes looked more alert as he stared up at me confusedly. "You had a nosebleed," I compelled him, my green eyes meeting his sky blue ones. "You're going to forget you came out to see me, and you're going to forget what happened." He repeated my commands robotically, pupils dilating as my little party trick did it's job. "Go to class."

I blinked, and he stood up without further prompting, straightening his clothes and walking away from the field without looking back.

I stayed on the grass, curling my arms around my legs and holding them to me tightly. I wasn't sure what was worse: that I'd done it at all, or that I was struggling to feel guilty about it.

I tried to tell myself that nobody had been seriously hurt. I'd fed, he had no memory, and nobody had to know, so who cared in the end?

My hands were shaking, and I knew there was something seriously wrong with me, and the only person I wanted to speak to about it was avoiding me. I jumped when my phone cut through the silence, the default ringtone tinkling through the air. I fished it from my pocket, hoping beyond all hope that it was Stiles.

A glance down let me down, and I answered the call with a snapped, "What?"

"_Whoa_," Melissa's familiar voice said over the line. "_Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today_."

I sighed, running a finger along my nose, trying to ease the oncoming headache. I felt a glimmer of regret, but I wasn't about to be caught apologising. "What's up, Melissa?" I asked her in a kinder tone, letting my head tip back against the wall behind me and staring up at the cloudy sky, absolutely refusing to think about what had occurred not two full minutes ago on the bleachers.

"_I just thought I'd let you know that Stiles is in the hospital_-"

"He's _what_?" I demanded, shoving my half-finished sandwich from my lap as I clamoured to my feet. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"_Take a breath, he's fine_," she assured me, and I paused, taking her advice and sucking in a lungful of air. "_He was suffering from extreme exhaustion. I gave him a sedative, and he's getting some rest in one of our beds_."

"Which room?" I pressed, snatching my bag from the ground and heading out of the school grounds, making a beeline for the main road that would take me in the direction of the hospital.

"_Come meet me at the front desk and I'll take you to him_," she bargained, and with a reluctant huff I relented, murmuring a farewell and slipping the phone back into my pocket.

Guilt and anxiety swirled around in my gut. How had I not known Stiles was so sleep deprived that he needed to be admitted to hospital? I felt like a failure, I'd been so caught up in my own pathetic problems that I hadn't been paying enough attention to what mattered most.

The hospital wasn't too busy when I arrived, and I found Melissa by the front desk as she said she'd be. "Where is he?" I asked in lieu of a greeting, hands braced on the flat surface of the desk.

"Good to see you too, Jules," Scott's mom replied, shooting me a scolding look that made me feel oddly chastised. "He's in room 115," she continued when it became clear I had nothing more to say. "He won't be waking up any time soon, though."

"Thank you," I told her, making sure my sincerity was clear in my voice. "For telling me."

"I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you when he wakes up," she said with a quiet smile.

I forced my lips into something of a smile back, nodding at her thankfully before slipping away from the desk and following the numbers up until I reached room 115. I hesitated at the door, hand hovering over the handle as I weighed my options.

What if Melissa was wrong? What if he didn't want to see me?

Before I could work myself up over it, I pulled on the handle, slipping into the room and letting the door click shut behind me. Stiles hadn't looked so peaceful in weeks. His face was clear of a frown, absent of worry lines or a furrowed brow. My lips tipped up in response to seeing him so calm, and I wandered over to his beside, dropping my bag onto the floor at my feet before curling into the chair sitting by his side.

As I sat down in the still, quiet room, I was suddenly painfully aware of how exhausted I was. I hadn't slept in days, and I was still recovering from whatever those ghost-ninjas had done to me. The back of my ear itched and I scratched at it irritably.

With a sigh I leaned my forehead down on the bed just beside Stiles' still hand, letting my eyes drift shut as I let the tension fade from my body.

It was amazing how safe this human boy could make me feel, even when he was unconscious.

I hadn't realised that I'd drifted off to sleep until my phone buzzed in my pocket, making me shoot up in shock, chest clenching in surprise as I struggled to fish the device from my pants. It was an unknown number, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with a telemarketer, so I declined the call, slipping it back into my pocket and turning to Stiles, who was still unconscious, breathing steady and even.

Doubt and indecision bubbled up form my stomach, burning in my chest as I sat with it. Would he even want to see me? He hadn't even told me he'd been coming to the hospital, so why would he want me there when he woke up?

"Stiles?" I said before I'd even made a conscious decision to speak. His heartbeat remained steady, not a pump out of beat; he was dead to the world.

My eyes began to sting, and I realised that I had to speak to _somebody _about what was happening to me, and there was nobody I'd rather speak to than Stiles. The fact that he wasn't conscious was just an added bonus.

"I'm not upset about you kissing someone else," I said to him under my breath, my hands tucked between my legs tightly, stopping myself from moving them. "When you wake up, I'm sure I'm going to hear all about how _she_ kissed _you_ and how you pulled away instantly." I attempted a smile, but it fell flat. Luckily nobody was around – or awake – to see it. "Even if you don't say that, I get it. I haven't been a good girlfriend."

It was a hard truth to admit, but there was still harder truths to come.

"I'm scared, Stiles," I whispered, unbelieving that I was admitting this to his unconscious form. Again, his eyelids didn't so much as flutter. I didn't dare reach out to touch his hand, even though I wanted nothing more than to feel his skin on mine. "I'm losing my grip on my humanity," I confessed, lip trembling in shame as I leant closer, breathing in his mint-and-chocolate scent. "I can feel my control slipping with every passing breath." My eyes were watering so much that my vision went blurry, and I bit my lip harshly, only succeeding in making the tears spill out over my lids, trickling down my cheeks and dripping from my jaw onto the crisp white hospital sheets.

I sniffled, glad he wasn't awake to see me fall apart.

"I want to give in so bad," I revealed, my throat closing around my words. "I want nothing more than to give in and let it all end." I sniffled, letting my forehead drop to the bed at his hips. "But that would mean losing you," my lip trembled again, a shudder running through me at the mere thought. "Help me," I begged his slumbering form. "I can't keep suffering like this, sooner or later my instincts will take over and I'll have no choice but to revert back to pre-Stiles-Juliet. All I can do is hope you don't hate me when that happens. Because I won't be able to survive you hating me, I can barely even handle you being upset with me now."

I sighed, lifting my head and running my hands over my face.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that...I feel like our time is limited, and I want you to know how sorry I am for when I inevitably ruin everything with nothing but the flick of a switch."

I sucked in a deep breath, letting the air and Stiles' scent calm me before I exhaled strongly, the air leaving my lips with a hissing sound.

"I'll leave you alone now," I murmured regretfully, the last thing I wanted to do was leave him here to wake up alone, but I wasn't sure I could look into his eyes when he did so. "I'll see you soon," I promised him, leaning up to gently press my lips to his forehead. His skin wasn't as warm as usual, instead cooler to the touch, but still just as smooth and soft. "I love you," they were my favourite words to say, and I wasn't sure whether or not I imagined the way he seemed to shift closer to me, an unconscious but instinctual movement.

Finally, incredibly reluctantly, I pulled myself away, forcing myself to keep my eyes from his dozing form and barrelling towards the door, quietly slipping back into the hallway and letting it click shut behind me.

I was glad nobody interrupted me on the way out of the hospital, I wouldn't have been able to predict what my reaction would have been had someone gotten in my way.

* * *

It was early the next morning when Stiles let himself into my house. I hadn't gotten much rest, too wound up and disturbed from what had happened on the bleachers to get any shuteye. Every time I closed my eyes I could taste the boy's blood on my tongue, feel his thrashing from under my hands.

And I still struggled to feel any semblance of guilt over it.

I was listening to old records in my room when I heard him enter, catching the familiar thrumming of his heart and a whiff of his minty scent. I didn't want him to feel crowded, so I let him come find me. His footsteps were steady and sure on the stairs as he climbed them, heading to my bedroom without hesitation.

I slid to my feet from where I was reclined on window seat, smoothing my hands over my dark blue night-slip, the satin running lusciously against my skin.

Eventually he slipped into my room, letting the door shut behind him, the only light in the room coming from the small reading lamp I had left on by my bed. "Stiles," I greeted him, forcing myself not to be pathetically nervous. It was _Stiles_ after all. "How are you feeling?" I asked him in concern, letting my eyes roam over his form, noting that he was holding himself assuredly, standing tall and proud.

The rings under his eyes were darker than ever, and he tilted his head in a way that reminded me of myself, eyes assessing me like he'd never seen me clearly before this moment. "I'm fine now," he finally answered me, a sexy smirk flickering at his lips.

"Good," I murmured, relaxing slightly. "It's a bit early to have that talk, maybe we could-"

His footsteps were surprisingly quiet on the carpet as he padded over to me. He didn't look contemplative or sombre, knowing that we needed to have a serious conversation, instead he looked impish, smirking at me widely, eyes fluttering over my form hungrily, like he hadn't seen a woman half-naked in decades.

He didn't look tired at all, suddenly his entire face was lit up in a mischievous, gleeful smirk and his eyes were lit with lust. I'd seen lust in his expression before, of course, but this was different. It was...colder than I was ever used to seeing from him.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, and though I didn't mind the term of endearment, it wasn't one we'd ever really used before.

Something about it set off alarm bells in my head, but I couldn't put my finger on why. As I met his eyes, the bells went away, replaced by a burning hunger that claimed my thoughts and desires.

His lips met mine in a furious kiss, one that was all teeth and tongues, so incredibly hot that my frozen chest fluttered in excitement.

I moaned as his lips slid wetly against mine and his tongue caressed me. He was usually passionate, don't get me wrong, but this was at a whole new level. He always kissed me like he loved me, and he rarely kissed me like he wanted to _devour_ me.

I enjoyed the roughness. Stiles was a virgin before we were together, so he was only just getting used to the wide world of sex, and was therefore still a little timid when we were together. But this wasn't timid, it wasn't even hesitant, or careful. It was rough, in a way I'd craved but hadn't known how to ask for.

His fingers, much more deft than I was used to, grasped the hem of my nighty and ripped it up and over my head. He groped me like a starving man, like we'd been apart in such a way for years instead of days. He slipped his palms under my thighs, hiking me up so my knees hooked over his hips, and he pressed against me in the most intimately delicious way.

Stiles was generally quite vocal when we were together, but now he was silent, gripping me like he was frustrated. I felt him move under me, and in the next moment was shoved up against the wall beside the door. I groaned in pure pleasure, reaching down to undo his pants, checking if he was hard.

Before my palm even met his length, he was pushing into me without any kind of foreplay, grunting under his breath. My own breath caught at the feel of being so gloriously filled. Without thinking I grasped at his own shirt, not bothering to take care as I ripped it from his body, exposing his skin to the cool air of my room. "Stiles," I breathed into his ear a mere second before he thrust. It was rough and my back scraped against the wall deliciously. I moaned again as he suckled at my neck, biting down on the skin in a way that had me mewling embarrassingly loudly. "Stiles," I repeated, it felt like a chant on my lips.

He thrust up again, and I scratched at his back desperately, searching for some kind of leverage. My nails dug into his skin, but thankfully not enough to draw blood. He seemed to like it more than ever before. "Fuck," he panted to himself from between my breasts when he thrust up again, my nails mirroring the action on the smooth expanse of skin on his back.

"Stiles," I murmured again, the word like a prayer as his lips closed around my nipple.

He seemed to growl gutturally – a sound I'd never before heard from him that started in his chest and turned me on so intensely that I clenched around him as I came, and with an exhale he followed me over the edge, freezing within me as he climaxed. Everything hazy, and I bit my lip hard as I struggled not to cry out.

He met my eyes, and I was blown away by the intensity in his honey gaze, the lust and the pleasure so powerful, so vivid and severe, that it was almost a glare. I was caught in his eyes like a deer in the headlights, stunned into silence by the force of what I was seeing, by the feeling of him within me.

Then he sagged, eyes drooping shut sleepily.

I was breathless, but I managed a quiet chuckle as I caught him, holding him up as he slipped out of me. "You okay?" I asked gently, and he managed no more than a mumble in response. He didn't usually pass out so heavily once we'd finished – he loved to snuggle – but I assumed he was still exhausted from the events of the last day, so I delicately pulled him over to the bed, pulling the covers over him gently. I changed into one of his shirts, foregoing the underwear as I crawled back into bed with him.

"Jules?" he asked drowsily, blinking over at me blearily as I curled around him like a koala bear.

"Shhh," I shushed him gently, stroking my fingers down his face. "Sleep."

"M'kay," he murmured, eyes sliding shut once more.

My body was humming from the mind-blowing sex, but something was still nagging me. I couldn't figure out what it was, but it was almost like something had been missing during the whole romp.

The guilt from the last few days came back to me hard and painful. How could I lay in bed with this man, leaving him completely in the dark about what I'd recently done? I'd allowed him to sleep with a murderer, and I was lying by omission.

I would tell him what had been happening with me, now just wasn't the right time. As I drifted off to sleep, I realised what had been missing during our earth-shattering moment together.

It had been love.

* * *

**A/N: I know some of you weren't too happy with the last chapter, but I did it that way for a reason. Things are about to go from bad to worse, and I hope you guys will stick with me for the ride.**

**IMPORTANT: I kinda wanna move onto other projects, most of which I've already told you guys about – some I haven't – so I'm thinking about ending this story after this season, but I'm not totally sure yet. What do you guys think? Please let me know, your feedback is everything to me.**

**Next chapter is a very big, very important one that I had to write out probably four different times until I was satisfied. It'll be a game changer. I'll see you lovely readers then (best start preparing yourselves).**


	56. The Devil Within

_You'll never know what hit you_

_Won't see me closing in_

_I'm gonna make you suffer_

_This hell you put me in_

_I'm underneath your skin_

_The devil within_

_You'll never know what hit you_

_I will be here_

_When you think you're all alone_

_Seeping through the cracks_

_I'm the poison in your bones_

_My love is your disease_

_I won't let it set you free_

_Til I break you_

The Devil Within – Digital Daggers

* * *

When I woke up, Stiles was gone and the house was empty.

This was surprising, since I was a light sleeper and usually I was woken just by Stiles waking up and getting out of bed. It was still dark, and I contemplated trying to go back to sleep, but when I turned over in bed to get comfortable, my keen eyes spotted Stiles' shoes sitting in the corner where he'd kicked them off before bed.

I sat up, a feeling of dread appearing in my stomach that hung heavy like a weight.

Why would Stiles leave without his shoes? He didn't have any other ones in the house, and he got grossed out by the slugs that usually covered my front lawn from dusk until dawn, so he wouldn't have walked to his car without them.

With a frown so deep that it made my brow ache, I reached over to my bedside table, picking up my phone and dialling Stiles' number. He didn't answer for a long time, it rang and rang and rang until I was sure it was going to go to voicemail, but then at the very last second, the call connected.

"_Juliet_," Stiles' voice said through the phone, though the way he said my name was all wrong, like he wasn't used to the way the sound felt on his tongue, as though it wasn't a word he said on a daily basis.

"Stiles, where are you?" I asked immediately, scooting back against my headboard and tilting my head in the darkness, listening closely to the sounds on the end of the line. "You left your shoes here," I said, knowing he'd know what I meant.

"_Come meet me_," he murmured, though it sounded like the order was nonnegotiable.

"What?" I asked incredulously. "Now? Where?"

"_The hospital_."

Worry flooded me. "What's wrong?" I demanded, pushing myself off my bed and heading over to my closet, pulling out an old hoodie and forcing my feet into some old combat boots without putting socks on, knowing the blisters would heal before they were a problem. "Are you okay?"

"_I'm fine, Juliet_," he responded, and although I couldn't see him, I could imagine him rolling his eyes. "_But, we need to talk._"

The words sounded foreign, and in some way, foreboding. I zipped up the hoodie and threw my hair into a low bun, grabbing my keys and heading directly for the door. "You're at the hospital? Which room?" I asked hurriedly, darting down the stairs and letting the door click shut behind me.

"_The roof_," he replied, and I paused on my porch, confused by the answer.

"You want me to meet you on the roof of the hospital at-" I pulled my phone away from my face to glance at the time, "-11pm?"

"_That's what I said_," the words sounded impatient, and though it was Stiles' voice, it was like I was talking to a completely different person.

"Okay, well-" before I could even finish my sentence, the call cut off, leaving me with the dial tone and a clear absence of Stiles. Stopping beside my mailbox, I stared at the phone for a long moment before pocketing it and turning in the direction of the hospital.

As I ran, I wondered what could possibly be so important that he would leave my house barefoot and travel to the hospital for no other reason than to visit the roof, only to ask me to meet him there anyway.

Something told me that whatever he was keeping from me, on a scale of surprise party to dead body, it was probably closer to dead body.

I knew that was hypocritical considering the bodies I myself had left littered around town the last few weeks – and not told him about – and some sick part of me hoped it was really the case, though I doubted it was so. Stiles couldn't hurt a fly, mostly because he wasn't strong enough, but I digress.

I got some odd looks from the nurses as I wound my way through the halls, but thankfully none of them tried to stop me. The hospital wasn't the best place for a fallen-off-the-wagon-blood-addict to be hanging out, and I had to stop breathing all together to prevent any impulse control slip ups.

I pushed my way out onto the roof, sucking in a deep breath of the cool, blood-free air. The hair on my arms stood on end, and the back of my neck prickled. There was power here, power so great that I paled in comparison.

"Ah, good, you're here," Stiles' voice said, and I turned to face him, seeing him standing in his pyjamas, feet unsurprisingly bare, though he didn't seem cold despite the freezing temperature of the night.

"Stiles, what's going on?" I asked hesitantly, stepping closer to my boyfriend, eyes flickering over his form. His heart was beating slower than usual, and the dark circles under his eyes had deepened since I'd seen him only a few hours before.

He wore a small smirk on his pale lips, head tilted like he was assessing me. Before he could say anything, there was a groan from the right, and I looked to the source of the sound, my eyebrows shooting up to my hairline when I caught sight of a man laying on the concrete, a wince on his aging features.

I looked back at Stiles dubiously; I hadn't been so confused in my whole 200 years.

"I know what you've been up to, as of late," my boyfriend told me, and my breath caught in my throat.

Panicking, I decided to play it dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about," I murmured, my voice lacking any kind of strength, in fact it sounded weak.

"Don't play dumb with me, Juliet," he said, and for a brief beat I was convinced he was somehow reading my thoughts. "It isn't becoming of a woman your age," he continued without taking a breath. Stiles didn't talk like that.

Something was wrong.

"Who are you, are what have you done with Stiles?" I demanded, only half joking – I forced a small, pained smile on my lips to prove it.

Stiles hummed like I'd raised an interesting argument. "That's the question, isn't it?" he pondered, smirk widening as he slithered over to the unconscious man to our side. "But we're not here to talk about me," he said matter-of-factly. "We're here to talk about _you_."

"Stiles," the word was said in a warning tone as I urged him to stop playing games.

"Juliet," he countered with that same smirk, suddenly crouching down beside the man. My feet may as well have been welded to the floor; I couldn't seem to make myself move. "I know what you did," he sang, uncharacteristic glee shining in his chocolate eyes. Uneasiness churned within me.

"Stiles-" I tried to get him to snap out of it, but he wasn't having any of it.

"I. Know. What. You. Did," he seemed to almost spit the words. He smirked up at me impishly, a dangerous gleam in those eyes that I found I adored. "And, you know what? Stiles knows too."

My breathing was laboured, I wasn't sure what to do or say. It wasn't Stiles I was talking to? Had he been compelled? Body-swapped? Possessed? Nothing was impossible in this world. "So who am I talking to, then, if not Stiles?" I asked, treading lightly and trying to stay calm.

He smiled like I'd said something amusing, shaking his head at his own thoughts. "I'll be here for a while yet, Juliet," he crooned, reaching out to nudge the slumbering man. "It's been a long time since I've had a body – I want to have some fun...well, even more than I already have." He smirked, and though Stiles did too, this expression was entirely too cold to belong on my warm boyfriend's face.

Realisation trickled through my insides like a droplet of icy water. "It was you," I said it like the words themselves tasted bad. "Last night, it was you I was with, not Stiles."

"You are quick, Juliet," he murmured, tilting his head at me and observing me like I was on display at a museum. "We love that about you."

I wasn't sure what that meant, but something about it made me feel ill. "What do you want?" I demanded, glad my voice didn't shake, and he chuckled amusedly.

"That's my business," he said before I could question him further, and I knew asking more would be pointless.

I amended my sentence, "what do you want with _me_?"

He smirked, pushing himself back up to his feet and kicking the unconscious man, almost as an afterthought, serving no real purpose. "Now there's a question I can answer," he purred, moving forwards without stumbling once, his posture very un-Stiles-like, spine too straight and self-assured. "I want you to feed from this human until he dies," he told me pleasantly, like we were discussing the weather. "And then I want you to wallow in the guilt for as long as it takes to flick that famous little switch and turn it all off so you can be my partner in crime without _any_ reservations."

I gulped, and his eyes followed the dip of my throat closely. "You're not the first man to ask me to turn it off for them," I finally said through clenched teeth.

"Except I'm _not_ a _man_," the not-Stiles creature countered smartly, an amused smirk on his familiar lips. "Not really."

I was silent, too afraid that something would break inside me should I open my mouth; to acknowledge what was happening made it all so intensely real.

"Listen, Juliet," the creature said, tone so like Stiles' that it made a tremor run through me. His keen eyes didn't miss it, and his smirk only widened. "I know what you've done, do you really think I'm going to love you _ever_ again?"

"Like I care," I retaliated quickly, narrowing my eyes at him and crossing my arms so he couldn't see them shake. "The only person's opinion I care about is Stiles'."

"But don't you see?" he asked, stepping closer, bare feet making no sound on the cement ground. "I _am_ Stiles."

"Nice try," I snarled sarcastically, lip curling back to reveal my fangs. "We both know that's utter bullshit."

"No, really," he insisted calmly, smiling like he knew something I didn't. "I didn't _take him over_," he explained with patience that I could tell was forced. "We're _one_ now."

"How did you even do this?" I asked, refusing to acknowledge his clear lie. The answer hit me before he even opened his mouth, and I narrowed my eyes across the roof at him, keeping my attention on him, looking for any discrepancies in his actions. "The door's ajar," I murmured in realisation.

He smiled in a way I would almost call...proud. "Now you're getting it!" he exclaimed excitedly, throwing his arms outwards enthusiastically. "Listen," he began after a beat, tone calming to a softer volume. "Now that Stiles and I are...us, we're at a different tier than, say, a vampire with _humanity_," he said the word like it was dirty.

"So you want me to stoop to your level and become a soulless killing machine?"

"Now you're getting it!"

My chest felt tight and it was getting hard to breathe, if I didn't know better I'd say I was moments away from a panic attack.

Not-Stiles looked irritated by my reluctance. "Let me try and sway you," he said flatly, turning back to the unconscious man and pulling something that I hadn't noticed from the floor. It was a scalpel from the hospital, and before I could so much as shout for him to stop, his arm snapped out and the lethally sharp end sliced through the skin of the man's neck, blood bubbling to the surface and spilling out onto the concrete.

The scent hit me like a tidal wave, and I practically choked on my own saliva in response.

"Hmm," not-Stiles hummed like a mother trying to convince her toddler to eat their vegetables. "Come now, Juliet," he crooned gently, reaching down to smear his fingers through the spilling liquid. "Don't let it all go to waste."

My muscles coiled in an effort to stop myself. My eyes turned a familiar blood red, and hunger appeared in my gut like a monster rearing it's ugly head. I stopped breathing all together, but the scent was already imprinted in my nostrils and on my tongue. My bloody eyes followed the stream the blood was causing on the ground. "You just killed someone," I said, using the last of the air in my lungs, hoping it would get through to the real Stiles, wherever he was.

"Come _on_," he goaded, completely ignoring my shocked words. My nails bit into my palms like teeth, and I felt little rivers of blood trickle from my knuckles as I fought against myself. "I know your resistance is lowered," he all but sang, lifting his bloodied fingertips to his lips and sucking the blood off them in a move that shouldn't have been sexy. "Hm," he murmured like he was a food critic tasting a pasta dish for the first time. "A little on the metallic side for me, but I hear that's all the rage with _your_ kind."

The sight of the blood smeared on Stiles' perfect lips aroused me in a way that made me instantly ashamed. My nostrils flared and my toes inched forwards without my permission, my body being drawn closer to the intoxicating liquid bubbling out onto the ground. What a waste.

"Come _on_," not-Stiles prompted me, impatience leaking through in his voice. "Feed already!"

Like his words were a command, in the next heartbeat I found myself kneeling in the puddle of blood, my lips attached to the wound at the corpse's throat, sucking with everything I had. The still-warm blood pooled in my mouth, but I barely took the time to enjoy before swallowing, feeling it slide down my throat and settle in my stomach with a pleasant weight.

It tasted better than I could remember any blood ever tasting before. In an effort to get more into me, I tore my fangs into his jugular, ripping into the muscle and making the blood pour out over my face. I couldn't have cared less, unable to stop myself from moaning as I drank and drank, until finally the blood stopped coming, the carcass sucked dry.

I stayed where I was for another minute, eyes closed as I basked in the power, energy and strength coursing through my body. I felt like there wasn't anything I couldn't do.

A dark chuckle rang through the cool night air, and I finally opened my eyes, detaching my mouth from the corpse's neck and looking up at not-Stiles defeatedly. He reached a hand out, I hadn't realised he'd gotten do close. I didn't want to, and I would later blame it on the blood filling me, but I took his offer, allowing him to help me to my feet.

"Now _this_, is what a vampire looks like," he said with a leery grin, and I poked my tongue out, letting it run over the skin around my mouth, catching what I could of the blood smeared there like paint. "You have _never_ looked more attractive," not-Stiles told me, and I swear my heart leapt into my throat.

My eyes burned with tears, but thankfully they didn't fall, merely stinging painfully. "Is Stiles really in there?" I asked vulnerably, meeting his familiar honey-chocolate eyes, hoping beyond all hope that I would recognise my human in them if I stared for long enough. If anything, he only looked more alien as the seconds ticked by.

"We are one," he said, and his heartbeat – already slower than a regular human's – was steady.

"Will I ever get him back?" I asked, preparing myself for an answer I didn't want to hear.

He paused, taking a moment to respond. "Maybe," he finally answered, and though his heart was steady, I couldn't help but feel like he was lying. "But it won't be for a long while, and why spend all that time suffering?"

He had a point, and though the option I was faced with made me feel sick, it was looking more and more attractive by the second. A tear slipped from my lid, rolling down my cheek and mixing with the blood smeared across my lower face.

"Don't you just want it all to go away?" he asked somewhat rhetorically, glancing down at the bloodless corpse pointedly. I followed his gaze, throat closing with pure emotion as I stared into the man's lifeless blue eyes, staring unseeingly at the night sky. Guilt clawed at my insides, and another tear fell. "Weren't you just saying mere days ago that you wanted this? That you wanted me to be like you? Don't you want to _have fun_, instead of being in pain all the time, instead of feeling _guilty_ all the time?" He paused, tugging on my hand to draw my attention back to him. "Let me be with you; let me make you _great_ again."

It sounded like a political argument, but despite that, his words struck a chord within me. I realised that I _wanted_ to give it all up. I wanted it to go away. I wanted to be great again.

What was keeping me here? Stiles was gone, at least for now, and what was I meant to do until I got him back? Suffer in silence? Struggle not to leave a trail of bodies in my wake, no matter where I went? With my lowered resistance, it was really only a matter of time before I killed again, and who knew who my next victim would be?

At least if I gave in, then my friends would be safe. I could control myself in that state – it was the suppressing of my urges that was killing people. And now that Stiles wasn't around as a reason to stay sane, what was stopping me?

Nothing.

I _wanted_ it.

At least I wouldn't be alone in my lack of humanity – I could sense that not-Stiles was very much the same way inclined. We were going to have _so_ _much_ fun.

"Okay," I said, meeting his eyes dead on, before I took the leap, there was one person I absolutely _had_ to speak to. "Stiles," I addressed my boyfriend, and for a split second something flickered in his lifeless eyes, a spark of life that reminded me that my human wasn't gone; not completely. "I can't do it any more," I admitted, reaching up and cupping not-Stiles' face. "I can't be strong. And I'm sorry, I really am. When you come back, you'll be the one to get through to me, I know it. Please have faith in me, Stiles. Please believe I will redeem myself, that I'll come back to you."

"Yes, yes," not-Stiles snapped, reaching up to knock my hands from his face, leaving bloody handprints pressed onto his pale skin, but neither of us cared. "It's all very touching," he sneered in a way that reminded me this _wasn't_ Stiles. "Now _do it_!" he ordered sharply, stepping back and staring at me expectantly.

I hesitated, knowing that once I stepped of this cliff, it was going to be a hell of journey to get back to where I had been. What was I thinking?

"_Turn it off_!" not-Stiles bellowed so loudly that I was sure somebody else heard, but the shout was enough to snap me into action. With a bow of my head and a blind search for my switch, there was a beat, and then there was nothing at all.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, everything seemed...darker, somehow. Instantly I could feel the difference within myself, there was a distinct absence of _anything_. I didn't feel sad, or guilty, or hurt. I just felt...hungry, and _bored_.

I looked up, meeting not-Stiles' eyes.

He was smirking, the expression large and bordering on a leer. "Welcome back," he said casually, and I had to admit, the way his bloodied lips moved made me want to throw him against the nearest wall and ravish him. Now my hunger was radiating from an entirely different place in my body.

I tilted my head, letting my eyes cut through the dark, observing every inch of this not-Stiles. "So," I began, and even my voice sounded different; deeper, rougher and darker. "Who're we killing first?"

He smiled, the expression delighted while still holding an air of darkness and indifference. "Baby steps," he told me, and my lips tipped up. I hummed lightly, inching forwards until I was so close our noses could almost brush. I inhaled, enjoying the scent of Stiles with an edge of the blood from my latest victim.

"Okay, _boss_," I sneered sardonically, even as I moved forwards, winding my arms around his neck and curling into him in a way that wasn't at all sweet, but entirely sexually driven. "What's your master plan, then?" I questioned, curious and suspicious. Why did he need _this_ me, and not the _good_ me?

"I have a previous engagement this evening," he murmured, making no move to lean into me, even as I rolled my pelvis against his sensually. "But I do encourage you to go out and cause all the mayhem you possibly can."

I nuzzled into his throat and nibbled on the warm skin of his neck. Again there was no physical reaction, irritating me. "My favourite thing to cause," I hummed into his skin, and with an almighty shove he pushed me back and away from him. He was strong – stronger than human Stiles, at any rate – and he straightened his shirt as though he was in a suit, not ratty old pyjamas. I giggled at the action, but the sound was dark and creepy, not at all sweet like the word usually implied. "You know I'm not your pet," I said, just to make sure he knew. "I'm not going to be at your beck-and-call."

He smirked like I'd said something funny.

"You're not a leader, Juliet," he said patronisingly. I pulled back, narrowing my flaming green eyes at him dangerously. "You never have been. You're a follower; a minion, or a disciple, if you will." I wasn't sure what to say in response, I felt no indignation or embarrassment, merely a simmering anger that filled my every bone. "You can't survive without someone calling the shots for you," he continued like I wasn't glaring at him like I wanted to snap his neck. "For the last year, it's been Scott filling that role for you. Now? It's _us_."

I raised an eyebrow at not-Stiles, my rage fading away into intrigue. "_Us_?" I demanded, deciding to take this conversation one step at a time.

His lips spread across his face coldly. "Stiles and I," he responded impatiently. Of course.

I considered his words, he was right on most counts, though I was loathe to admit it. I knew if I wanted to get my way – to get Stiles back in one piece – I would need to play along. That didn't mean that I was going to fill the role of 'minion' as easily as he so clearly hoped. "Fine, I'll let you call the shots. But you should know: another, better deal comes along, and I'll take it without hesitation. If you think you can trust me, you're severely mistaken," I warned him pleasantly, smiling just as coldly. He had to know where I stood. I prodded my insides for any trace of guilt, and felt a curl of pleasure when all I got back was numb contentment.

"Juliet," the name still didn't feel right coming from not-Stiles' lips, but I couldn't find it in me to care, not even at how condescending he sounded. That part of me was long gone – just like Stiles, for now. "I have no trust in you whatsoever."

I waited for the inevitable sting the words would bring, but I felt nothing but indifference. I didn't care what he thought of me. His opinion (or, lack of trust) had no impact on me whatsoever. "Then we have an understanding," I murmured curtly, chin tilting up.

"One last thing," he said as I turned to leave, excited to revel in my new state of being. I looked back at him, narrowing my eyes as I awaited his response. "I have big plans, so I can rightly assume you don't care who gets caught in the crossfire, yes?" He tilted Stiles' head in a very un-Stiles-like move; even the way he spoke was alien. "You don't care who gets hurt?"

I took a moment to search myself, looking for that familiar feeling of panic or fear, but instead all I felt was that pleasant numbness, an obvious absence of care that was pure bliss. In fact, if anything, I felt almost an eagerness to witness the destruction of innocence. I wanted to watch the good burn; it had brought me nothing but pain so far.

Even with all this, I didn't want any of them to die. I wondered if I was defective, shouldn't I have wanted to kill everyone in sight? I thought of eating strangers on the street, terrorising young people and causing utter chaos, and I felt a curl of pleasure at the fantasy. So I was definitely still 'working' in that regard, however the thought of killing the people I called _friends_ made my gut twist.

Not-Stiles didn't have to know that, however. I supposed I would just have to walk the line, find a happy medium between causing complete and utter pandemonium, and keeping the people I had – at one stage – loved, safe.

"I don't care who gets hurt," I said, and it wasn't a complete lie, I really didn't mind if the pack got roughed up a bit – it would do them good.

I cringed at my own thoughts, how pathetic could a soulless vampire get?

For a brief moment, there was a flicker in his honey eyes that was familiar, the same spark I saw every time I met before-Stiles' gaze. There was pain in the flare, something like a scream through nothing but his eyes, but I blinked to make sure I was seeing right, and it had disappeared by the time my eyes were once more open.

"Oh Juliet," he crooned coldly, a wicked gleam replacing the brief cry in his eyes. "I can see right through you."

"Is that so?" I asked, boredom flowing from my tone as I stared across at him indifferently. I decided to change the subject, desperate to feel more in control of the conversation. "So, these big plans," I purred, placing on foot in front of the other as I sauntered up to the not-Stiles. I reached out, letting my bloodied fingers trail over the familiar teeshirt he wore, tracing over the collarbones I knew so very well. "Feel like sharing?" I whispered innocently, blinking up at him with wide eyes that before-Stiles wouldn't have been able to deny.

His lips tipped up, and I felt a curl of pride as I assumed he was agreeing, his hand snapped out, catching me around the wrist. He squeezed, applying pressure that for any human would be impossible. His grip was so strong that I winced, allowing him to drag my hand away from his chest, a sneer on his pale lips.

"Just be there when I call on you," he snarled tightly, eyeing me with a mix of lust and disdain that made me tingle in all the right places.

This lustful, hungry, molten-onyx was just as enticing as ever, in a hauntingly familiar and exhilarating way. I decided not to think about the parallels to past flames, that was a breakdown for another day.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel special," I hummed, smiling pleasantly even as I ripped my wrist from his grip with all the force I had. He barely flinched, but let me go, a spark of mischief in his eyes that sent a thrill through me. "I suppose I'll go and wait by the phone for your call, shall I?" I questioned teasingly, growing tired of our banter. I needed to stretch my returned wings, run amok in the nearest establishment I could find. "I eagerly await the next time we meet..." I trailed off pointedly, glancing at him from under my lashes in a move that would melt a mere man.

He paused, dark eyes calculating as they flickered over my form. "They call me Void," he finally murmured, hint of a deadly smirk on his lips.

"That's what they call you, but that's not your name," I challenged, and I could tell from the brief tightening of his beautifully cut jaw that I was correct. The expression was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Until we meet again, Juliet," he said smoothly, the picture of cool, calm and collected – the opposite of before-Stiles, who was as twitchy as a ferret, scattered and ruffled being a permanent personality trait.

I purred in response, flashing him a bright, eager grin before he turned and melted into the shadows. Void wasn't with me anymore, and he'd taken before-Stiles with him. I once more waited for the feelings to come, but none appeared. I waited for the guilt about not feeling to come, but none appeared. I waited to feel grief over Stiles being Void, but none appeared.

I realised that, as it turned out, now I was void too.

* * *

**A/N: We're starting a new chapter of this story now. Things are about to get intense. Shoot me a review and tell me how you think the rest of the season's going to play out, I'm super interested to hear your theories.**

**PS: If you're in America, are old enough and haven't voted or don't plan to vote, you should definitely do so. It's SO important, don't be silent!**

**VOTE _BERNIE_!**


	57. Mirrors

**A/N: I've had some comments about the title of this story, assuming it has some kind of meaning that works with the plot – it does, but not in the way you assume. Currently I have no plans of taking Juliet or Stiles out of Beacon Hills, it's called _I Know Places_ after the Taylor Swift song that I kind of consider the theme song of the story. If you haven't heard it before, I definitely recommend giving it a listen – I'm sure you'll be able to see what I mean.**

**I'm glad you guys are enjoying the story and where I'm taking it, the next few chapters were an absolute bitch to write – writing someone without humanity is _hard_. I'm still on the fence about continuing after this season or not, once I've made up my mind I'll let you all know.**

* * *

_Your dead eyes before mine._

_The way they're missing their whites,_

_Yeah, they're just right._

_I know you're dead inside_

_And that's what I like_

_But when you float above my body,_

_Standing up right above me,_

_I don't feel so lonely_

_Darling, don't be so shy,_

_I'll see you at midnight_

_And when I close my eyes._

_I said it three times,_

_You make my world spin,_

_Placebo feelings._

_I know you're dead inside,_

_But you make me feel alive._

Mirrors - PVRIS

* * *

The hours blurred together. There was the thrashing of music, the slick movement of sweaty bodies rubbing against each other and the stench of alcohol so strong it made my eyes burn.

I revelled in it.

It was dark in the club, nobody able to see more than a few feet in front of them, the perfect space for a recently desensitised vampire to run amok in. I lost count of the people I played with, it was all moans and rubbing and snarls and broken skin coated with dripping blood.

There was no kissing, but I didn't dwell on that.

I was able to let go with ease, forgetting about the human/mystery-monster boyfriend waiting back uptown, hopefully causing as much mayhem as I was. Eventually I got bored of the club scene – I was going to have to get used to getting bored more often, as I remembered it.

I had swiped an armful of liquor from behind the bar, before I swaggered home in the light from the rising sun, keen to cause trouble from within the confines of my own home while the sun was out.

"Do you like that, baby?" the gravelly voice of one of the boys under my control murmured, looking up at me from where he was nuzzled between my breasts, eyes alight with compelled lust.

"Go dance with a stripper," I told him with a growl of my own, and he didn't look put out, instead his lips curling into an eager grin as he stumbled away from me, towards the trio of women dancing in the space between my couch and coffee table.

"Come join us, Juliet!" the blonde one begged, her voice irritating, but the smell of her sweat and arousal completely intoxicating.

In a blink I was beside her, and she threw her arms around my neck, her bare chest pressing up against my thin tank-top as she ground into my hips with her own. My nose roamed the soft expanse of her throat, and as she moaned I basked in the total and complete control I had over her in that moment.

Before my fangs could so much as brush her skin, there was a loud banging at my front door.

I was content to ignore the irritating intrusion, but it happened again, a familiar voice accompanying it. "Jules!" Scott McCall shouted over the sound of a pounding bass and thrashing guitar solo. "_Juliet_!" he shouted in his alpha-growl, and feeling entirely inconvenienced, I pulled away from the girl, appearing at the door and pulling it open, undeterred to find not only Scott on my doorstep, but little miss Lydia Martin too.

"Hm," I purred as I leaned drunkenly against the doorframe, a content smile on my slowly-numbing face. "Come to join the party?"

They were silent, taking in my smeared lipstick, dishevelled hair and lack of pants. "What the hell is going on?" Lydia demanded shrilly, staring at me like I'd grown a second head.

"A good time," I responded with a reactive sneer. "Until _you_ showed up."

"Are you having a _party_?!" Scott demanded, eyes wide with disbelief.

"I can understand your confusion since you've probably never been invited to one," I murmured back. His eyes only widened, and I giggled hysterically, the sound wild and unhinged. "Come on, big bad wolf," I goaded with an eye roll. "Would it kill you to lighten up?"

Scott, always the most composed of us all, seemed to snap at my words. "Stiles has been _missing_ all night," he yelled, irate. "And you've been having a _party_?!" he was furious, and above all, confused. "He's in the _hospital_, Jules."

I thought back to the Not-Stiles I'd met with on the roof; clearly everything was going according to plan.

"Is he alive?" I asked flatly, already knowing the answer.

Scott floundered for a beat. "...yes?"

"Then why do I care?"

Scott was flabbergasted, jaw opening and closing like a fish. Lydia stared at me, intelligent eyes calculating; knowing her, she was probably figuring it all out. Good for _bloody_ her.

"Either come inside, have a drink and take off your pants, or go away and quit being such stuck up nuisances."

The two friends were annoyingly silent on the other side of the door, no idea how to reply. Lydia reached out, delicate hand wrapping around Scott's bicep. "Scott," she said quietly, tugging on his arm gently. "Let's go."

"No," Scott snapped, but it was obviously directed at me and not her. "What's going on? Why are you acting this way? Why don't you seem to care?"

I smiled calmly, completely unaffected, though the expression was cold, void of all warmth. "Because I _don't,_" I sneered at the oblivious wolf.

"Scott," Lydia said again, an edge to her sweet tone. "We need to leave."

"That's right," I goaded, waving them away with my hand. "Run along."

Scott's nostrils flared, but Lydia's heart was racing, and she backed away, forcing Scott to move with her.

"Don't come back until someone yanks those sticks out of your asses!" I yelled after them cheerily, shooting them a large, hollow smile before allowing the door to slam after me as I headed back through to the living room, where my little toys were still writhing together, a tangle of sweaty, heaving limbs.

They cooed happily once they saw me return, and I melted back into them with a pleased smirk, losing myself in the bashing of the music and the taste of glorious fresh blood as it pooled onto my waiting tongue.

It was bliss.

* * *

The sound of a phone ringing woke me from my slumber. I opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling, letting it ring for a long minute before I reached out blindly to pick it up, staring at the name on the screen for a moment before I tapped the green button and held it to my ear.

"Hello, lov_er_," I answered the call slyly, the smirk on my lips obvious in my voice. I glanced out the window, it was dark again; I'd partied away the day.

"Jules?" Stiles sounded shaky, and once upon a time it would have alarmed me, but as I paused to allow the worry to appear, I realised it wasn't going to.

"What's wrong, baby?" I asked innocently, my tone about as condescending as it could possibly get. I knew this was a possibility – Stiles returning – I could only hope it was temporary. Of course, I could sense the power from Void, he'd be back, I was sure of it.

He paused a moment, thrown off by my unusual term of endearment. "Are you okay?" he finally asked, unsure.

"Well, I'm not the one in hospital, now am I?"

I could tell he felt uncomfortable by my overly-innocent, haughty tone. "Where are you?" he asked me gently after a heavy breath. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh, you know," I replied vaguely, sitting up from where I'd passed out on the couch and getting to my feet, stepping over the unconscious, bloodied bodies littering my living room floor. "This and that."

He sucked in another shaky breath, and I waited for the feelings to hit me, but again, none did. "They wanna run some tests," he murmured weakly. "I was hoping you'd...be here...?"

He sounded insecure and feeble, two things I detested in a partner. The first feeling of the day hit me, a flare of lust and longing. I ached for the strong voice Void had had. I craved the way his eyes were dead but his smirk was so alive. I desired the same unloving passion and content satisfaction we'd experienced together only mere nights ago.

"Are you there?" I asked before I could stop myself, knowing Void would know what I meant if he was listening.

"What?" Stiles was confused by my words, no sign of Void anywhere in his tone. Disappointment settled in my stomach like lead, but the sudden emotion coursed straight through to hunger as quickly as it had appeared.

"Shame," I muttered unfeelingly, idly nudging one stripper with my foot, tilting my head to see if she was dead. Her heartbeat was faint, but definitely still there.

"Jules, what's going on?" Stiles sounded scared, but I felt no sympathy, only irritation. I was always looking after these children – like some kind of twisted, undead mother-figure.

"I'll be seeing you soon, I'm sure," I told him quietly, staring off into the dark of my kitchen, mind already on who to have for dinner.

"Jul-"

I hung up before I had to listen to any more – I wasn't in the mood.

I kicked the body on the ground with enough force to crack a rib, and the girl jerked awake. "Hello brown-eyes," I murmured with a hungry smirk, reaching down to wrap my fingers around her thin, bruised throat.

Blood flooded my eyes, the veins on my cheeks turning a deathly, inky black as my fangs slid into view. She tried to scream, but only managed to get a second of sound out before I tightened my hand enough to cut off the shout. She choked, hands reaching up weakly to desperately claw at my clenched knuckles as her face began to turn a beautiful shade of red.

"Hm," I purred lowly, satisfaction mingling with hunger as I peered at her, tilting my head to watch her closer, enjoying the way the blood vessels in her eyes burst, turning the whites to a bloody red much like my own. "Stunning," I complimented, yanking her close enough to me to press my lips to her purple ones for a brief beat before letting go of her neck to tilt up her chin and sink my fangs into her throat, cutting off everything she was doing in an attempt to get away from me, her body turning limp in my capable grip.

She dropped to the floor when I was done, nothing but an empty shell with tear tracks smudging her perfectly applied makeup and a throat torn to shreds.

I hummed in contentment, reaching up to wipe the blood off my lips before stepping over her and moving on to the next girl, kicking her hard enough to force her awake. "Dance," I ordered her flatly, so full of power that I didn't even have to look into her eyes to compel her. I kicked one of the other unconscious boys. "Wake the others and _dance_," I snapped again, letting them get to work as I lazily turned the music back on, some kind of modern rock filling the room as the humans began to exhaustedly move to the beat.

It was fun to a degree, sure, but it was also boring, being nothing I hadn't done a thousand times before. Not even a lap dance from the stunning brunette with tits that wouldn't quit could pull me from my funk. I downed another mouthful of vodka, the taste bitter on my tongue, waiting for the hours to tick by.

I contemplated going out, or even leaving town and maybe finding Klaus or – Lord help me – Kol, I was sure they'd enjoy having the old me back. I knew why I couldn't leave though, and the reason itself appeared at my front door halfway through the night, an expression that was both blank and smirking on his gorgeous face.

I instantly knew it wasn't before-Stiles, this one's heart was beating too slowly, his eyes too dead.

"Well, well," I sang impishly, an altogether different kind of hunger appearing low in my stomach. "Look who decided to make an appearance."

"Miss me?" Void asked slyly, victory in his smirk.

"You have _no_ idea," I replied quickly, and he didn't wait for me to move before brushing past me, heading inside my dark house where music echoed off the walls like shouts.

"I see you've been busy," he told me as he came to a stop in my living room, eyeing the dancing humans and corpse on the floor.

"I was bored," I pouted at him as I passed, blinking up at him with wide, dark eyes.

"Hm, I know the feeling," he murmured, wandering listlessly over to the table covered in liquor bottles and picking one at random, tipping it back into his mouth without so much as a wince. "You're quite the messy eater."

"What can I say?" I responded coyly. "I like to play with my food."

He sat down on the stained couch, throwing his arms over the sides and peering at the the dancers with interest. "This decade is...quite marvellous," he commented with clear glee, watching the girls' breasts jiggle from within their lacy lingerie.

Deciding I didn't feel like denying myself the simple pleasures, I strode forwards with confidence, quickly and efficiently settling myself over his hips, winding my arms around his neck and tugging harshly at his hair. I sniffed at his neck, inhaling his decaying and dangerous scent.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, sounding bored as his fingers curled around my sharp hipbones.

"About how your blood would taste," I answered him without reservation, my voice a purr. I couldn't see his face, but I knew he was smirking. He was dangerous, I could feel it emanating from him like a heat. I was intoxicated by the feel of it, pressing against him and moving to slant my lips over his.

His kiss was bruising in the most wonderful way, but it wasn't what I was used to from his vessel. Stiles' kisses were more hesitant, bursting with affection and reverence, making me feel loved – _worshiped _even.

Void kissed me like he wanted to inhabit me, but as though he loathed me in the same moment. It was rough in a way I'd been secretly craving, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit there was a small, _tiny_ part of me that longed for the loving pecks I would exchange with my human.

Almost as though sensing my thoughts, Void's hands slid to my ass, gripping me tightly and grinding my pelvis into his violently, absolutely no love in the action. The wave of lust I felt was enough to have me forgetting my longing for Stiles, instead filled with a burning desire for Void, whoever, or _whatever_, he was.

I didn't love him – I wasn't capable of that any more – but I was obsessed with him in the worst possible way. I wanted to own him, completely take him over in a way I hadn't since I'd been with Klaus. Void was like me; unhinged, damaged, demented. It was nice not to be alone any more. Besides, Stiles was still there, he was just buried. And, after all, after so many years on this planet, I knew it was more than possible to be infatuated (if not in love) with more than one person at once.

He said he was still Stiles, just finally sunk down to _my_ level.

Nothing had ever been so hot.

I broke away with a manic giggle, the sound chilling to even myself, though I couldn't have cared. Void was silent, and I made it my own personal goal to make him moan as I ground into him again. He made no noise, reaching up to rip my tank top off my body, freeing my chest and making the humans behind us cheer in tired excitement.

I giggled again, drunk on lust, tugging harder at his hair, gritting my teeth together as I rocked our hips together.

"So tell me," I began conversationally, my hips never pausing their movement, but deciding now was as good of a time as any to get my answers. "What _are_ you?"

He smirked widely, and I bit my lip innocently as I stared back at him, hands leaving his hair to trail down to his stomach where I began to bunch up his shirt, slowly and deliberately pulling it over his head.

"That's the question, isn't it?" he responded coyly, merely watching me with dark, intelligent, mischievous eyes. "Why don't you try and guess?"

Deciding to play his silly little game, I sank further into him, letting just a hint of my fangs show as I sneered at him playfully, making him smirk wider. "Well, you're capable of total possession, so that crosses out most of the usual suspects," I mused, his steady gaze giving absolutely nothing away. "I'd put my money on a spirit of some kind...perhaps a poltergeist?" I paused a moment, though my hips continued their assault. "No," I murmured, somehow instantly knowing it was wrong. "More likely..."

I hesitated, observing him closely, taking in every clue I'd been given so far, trying to figure him out. There was one possibility, one I was hoping was correct.

"...a fox."

His smirk broadened as my nails pressed into his pale skin, leaving long red scratches down his chest, though he only seemed to enjoy the sensation.

"You're a kitsune," I murmured, my interest peaking.

"Actually, _Nogitsune _is the correct term."

"Hm," I purred quietly, leaning into him and jerking my hips sharply, a movement that would have made before-Stiles gasp, but Void merely stared back evenly. "Feeds on strife, chaos, tragedy and pain," I listed thoughtfully, an eager, hungry smirk appearing on my lips.

"You're a vampire lacking humanity," he responded smoothly, his near-black eyes meeting my own dark green ones, craving for _something_ in his intense gaze. "It's practically like looking in a mirror."

We were silent, continuing to rock with each other, slowly but surely getting rougher with each jerk of our hips. "You feel like sharing your evil plan yet?" I asked, hoping I would catch him while he was distracted enough to give in.

His hand cupped the back of my neck, and with a rough tug I was forced onto my back, finding myself under him as he reached down to wrap his fingers around my throat. The feeling excited me, and I moaned, pushing my chest up against his as he squeezed. "Don't talk," he instructed me in a snap, and though usually I didn't like being told what to do, something about the way he said it made a dagger of desire pierce through my gut.

Instead I giggled, the sound choked as it struggled to get around his tightening grip. He swooped down again, once more layering his lips over mine in a bruising kiss that was all teeth and tongue, not an ounce of tenderness to be found.

My underwear were torn from my body in a move that made me gasp when his fingers brushed my most sensitive spot before sweeping back up my body to grasp roughly at my breast.

It was coarse and boarding on violent. He slipped inside me with barely a grunt, fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave temporary prints, like something traced in breath on a window. I moaned at the feeling of being so entirely filled.

Void's hand tightened around my neck to stop the sounds, and though I didn't need air to survive, the action still made me feel lightheaded.

It was clear this wasn't about my pleasure, nor was it about his.

He was proving he owned me.

His thrusts were rough and random, alternating between fast and slow, constantly keeping me on the edge. My lips opened to gasp his name, but I stopped short of letting it escape – what was I going to call him?

Stiles? Or _Void_?

And, more to the point, which one did I _want_?

"You're _mine_," he growled in my ear possessively, slamming his hips down again, hitting a spot within me that made me mewl in a way I would never admit to.

I liked this, it was rough and dangerous and unhinged, everything the 'soulless' me wanted in a sex life. Maybe he was right, maybe I was born to be a follower, because in that moment I would have done anything he'd asked of me.

I was enamoured with him, or perhaps the _idea _of him.

Either way, he was a mind-blowing fuck.

He came with a hiss, stilling within me for a long, drawn out moment as I clenched around him as though my body was trying to keep him connected to me in the most intimate way possible.

Finally, after an endless minute that somehow wasn't long enough, he pulled out of me and zipped himself back up, leaning back against the couch, leaving me laying naked and exposed on the cushion beside him.

"Clean yourself up," he said emotionlessly, jerking his chin in the direction of the stairs.

His indifferent attitude left me feeling oddly cold, but I brushed the moment away and disappeared up to the second floor, deciding I needed a nice hot shower and a coat of blood red lipstick to make myself feel better.

But my thoughts didn't drift far from the man downstairs. The music drifting up the stairs changed to something darker, grungy and heavy, and I could hear one of my compelled sluts moaning.

One emotion that wasn't cut out with the switch was, unfortunately, jealousy.

I growled under my breath, applying the thick coat of lipstick and smacking my lips together to distract myself, running a hand down the part of my stomach my shirt exposed, down to my cut-off shorts, the material rough against my skin.

"Having fun, are we?" I asked loudly as I announced my presence downstairs, though I would have been willing to bet he'd already known I was there. He certainly moved quickly.

The jealousy was apparent, if not in my voice, then most certainly in my eyes. He smirked from where he was leaning against a wall, a half-naked blonde girl batting her false two-dollar lashes at him prettily.

I hated her. In that moment I knew I had never loathed something so much. Void said nothing, continuing to smirk at the whore.

I seethed from where I stood, stomping loudly and deliberately towards the girl draped over the fox, grasping her by the arm and ripping her away from him, watching as he raised his eyebrows – not quite in surprise, more in intrigue.

My fangs slid forwards and into her throat in one fluid motion. I didn't bother savouring the taste or to make sure I got every drop – I was biting to kill, not to feed.

She dropped to the floor, life leaving her eyes as blood bubbled from the massive bite mark at her carotid, dribbling across the smooth expanse of her chest, down over her breasts before landing on the floor in a large, messy, steadily growing puddle.

"Now, was that _really_ necessary?" Void asked me amusedly, smirk going from the corpse to me, making me feel much better.

"I don't like people touching my things," I responded curtly, reaching up to wipe at my chin, glancing down at my finger to see it coated in red. "Look what you made me do," I pouted, flipping my hair as I turned away and headed through to the kitchen. The group of partiers had ceased their terrible grinding at the death of their blonde companion. "_Dance_!" I snapped at them with bloody eyes, and they blinked as one before once more bobbing in time to the music.

I wiped off the blood from around my mouth and jaw, glancing down at my shirt, glad I hadn't stained it – I didn't want to have to get changed _again_.

"I need you to pick a few things up for me," Void spoke from the doorway, having moved without me hearing him. To my credit, I didn't jump. I turned around and raised a calm eyebrow.

"And you can't do it because..."

"Because the sheriff has this face tacked to every bulletin board and shop window in the town," he responded snidely, a look of disgust on his stolen features. "So be a good little girl and go get me my supplies."

He reached out a hand, passing me a lengthy list written on a piece of scrap paper, the words most definitely not written in Stiles' handwriting. Instead, these letters were sharp, carved out with an anger and hatred that surpassed the capabilities of a human.

"I'll do it," I relented with a glare. "But not because you told me to."

He smiled, the expression mocking rather than fond. "Soul or no soul, you never change."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Why would I need to, what with you right here with me?"

I glared at him, the anger in it bordering on passion, before he reached out, slapped my ass and waved me away like I was a dog.

I snarled one last time before shoving my feet into the first shoes I saw and storming out the door, list crumpled in my hand, both enjoying and hating the treatment.

Asshole.

* * *

Void was fun.

Okay, not exactly _fun_ – he was evil, but in many ways that was basically the same thing.

He, if anything, _encouraged_ me to have all the fun I wanted, he seemed pleased when I drowned out the numbness with alcohol and blood, and I _loved_ it.

A giggle left my lips, the sound unhinged and deranged, though I cared little. The music was loud, I'd had to compel away a pair of deputies when they came knocking, but I couldn't have cared less – it made no difference to me.

"Are alcohol and strippers your only hobbies?" Void asked from where he was standing in the doorway, one foot in the kitchen where he'd been tinkering away at whatever he'd been creating on the table, the other pointed in my direction, attention on me, bottle of whiskey in one hand, a stripper's waist in my other.

He didn't sound reprimanding, instead vaguely entertained with an amused smirk sitting on his pale, familiar lips.

"All I ever need, baby," I responded cheekily, batting off the stripper's wandering hands, not in the mood to be groped.

"Then what're all these books for?" he asked, reaching out to tug one off the shelf, glancing disinterestedly at the cover before tossing it carelessly into the crackling fire. It was a test, I was completely aware he just wanted to get a reaction from me, though I was slightly surprised when none came.

Humanity-having Juliet would have been aghast at the action, but as I waited for a rise to grow within me the seconds dragged on and I felt nothing.

I smirked impishly at Void. "They make good kindling, huh?" I said with a sneer and a wag of my eyebrows, and though he was clearly irritated by my calm demeanour, he said nothing, turning away and striding back into the kitchen, once more sinking into his work. "Y'know, it wouldn't kill you to let loose for a minute," I called back to him, not totally sure what his hearing capabilities were in comparison to mine.

"There're things to do, Juliet," he yelled back. "Work that needs doing!"

In a sudden and unpleasant flash I was reminded how starkly different Void and his human vessel were. "Chaos to cause?" I added, violently forcing the thoughts from my mind.

He didn't respond, the sound to crunching metal meeting my ears before I got distracted by the tits in my face, pushed together by a brilliant little purple bra that instantly made me hungry.

It wasn't until the dancer stopped struggling that I finally pulled my lips from her breasts. It wasn't my favourite place to feed from taste-wise, but it was certainly the sexiest.

Growing bored now that my hunger was satiated, I shoved her from my lap, taking another swig from my whiskey and padding into the kitchen. "Let's go out," I murmured in my most whiny tone, slinking across to the box he was filling with nails, peeking inside with raised eyebrows. Another giggle pealed from my throat. "You naughty boy," I sang, leaning down closer, his button-up draped over my shoulders brushing the cool skin of his exposed arm. "Who is _this_ meant for?"

"Spoilers," he tutted distractedly, fiddling with some wiring before placing a lid on the box and sealing it shut.

"Oh, come on," I pouted dramatically.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before humming and sitting back, eyeing me contemplatively. "Well, I suppose I _do_ need somebody to deliver it," he mused. "And better yet – a courier with the power of persuasion."

"See," I purred. "I can be useful."

"Had enough alcohol and strippers?"

"Never, but what's the old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

"That only applies to people capable of love."

I giggled, the words amusing me.

"Now, onto other business," he said, turning in the chair to fix me with a stern look. "Are you prepared to act like nothing's wrong?"

I blinked. "Nothing _is_ wrong."

He looked irritated by my words, but didn't comment on it. "Let me rephrase," he said with a sneer. "Act like you still have a _soul_."

I pouted again, "What will I get out of it?"

"The pleasure of seeing my plan unfold." I didn't say anything, carefully considering his words. "I feed off pain and mayhem, you were _exist_ to create pain and mayhem."

I smiled wickedly. "Is this your way of telling me we're a match made in heaven?" I asked impishly, but his lips barely twitched in response.

"Hell, more like it," he told me quickly, and I couldn't have stopped the smirk from spreading across my face if I'd tried.

"You're not wrong."

"Glad we're in agreement," he said with a leer, carefully lifting the box and depositing it into my hands. "Now, be a good girl and deliver this to the Sheriff's station for me."

His words made me pause, a stab of something like panic appearing in my chest. The foreign sensation was gone before I could process it, my body no longer knowing how to process those kinds of emotions. "The Sheriff's station?" I asked in a purr, dragging one finger over the wrapping of the package.

"Don't ask questions," Void snapped, a deadly glare in his eyes that, needless to say, excited me.

"Admit it," I pressed cheekily. "You like me."

He was silent for a beat, black eyes considering me closely. "Less _me_ and more _Stiles_," he spat the name like it tasted bad on his skilful tongue.

If my heart wasn't already unbeating, it would have frozen in my chest. "He's there?"

Void grimaced. "Locked away," he answered succinctly. "But some traits leak, such as his _weakness_ for you," he spat the word like it too burned on his tongue, which I could definitely understand.

Something warm brewed in my stomach, and for a breathless second I considered that it may have been hope. Without thinking about it, I reached for it, desperately trying to wrap myself around it and let it sink into my skin – but it slipped through my fingers like water from a tap, escaping my grasp and leaving me feeling cold and hollow.

I straightened my shoulders and tilted my chin up, reprimanding my subconscious, telling myself it didn't matter, and I had more important things to be focused on.

And just like that all emotion was wiped from me, instead I felt but a cool absence of feeling, unless you counted the incessant hunger clawing at my insides.

"Still," I said, forcing a sly smirk to my lips. "You said we made a good team."

Stiles would have rolled his eyes, but Void merely sent me a flat, lifeless look.

"Don't worry," I murmured, slipping closer, lifting one hand from the bomb in my grip to pat his chest, "I know you're dead inside." I shifted closer, leaning close enough to nip at the shell of his ear. "And that's what I like."

I pulled away before he could react, meeting his harsh eyes without flinching and tilting my head innocently.

"I'll deliver this to the station," I told him as I blinked my dark green eyes. "Anything else you'd like me to grab while I'm out, honey?"

He sneered, the expression cold and filled with irritation. "Actually – if you wouldn't mind," he said the words with barely concealed amusement. We both knew it wasn't going to be a request. "You could steal an emitter from Papa-Argent's supply."

I paused. "You want to _attract_ wolves?" I asked, trying to understand.

He continued without explaining. "Then bring it back to me and be prepared to get ready to go to school."

"School?" I spat incredulously.

"Ah, ah, ah," he tutted, wagging a finger in my face, a mischievous smirk flickering at his stolen lips. "No questions, no complaints. That's how this works, remember?"

I felt a growl begin to vibrate in my chest, but I kept it from escaping my lips, biting into the flesh of my tongue aggressively.

"I'll see you soon," he said, a painfully clear dismissal.

I sneered back, holding the bomb closer to my body and turning away, floating from the room and carelessly stepping over the bodies littering the floor of my living room.

"Actually!" he called, making me stop at the front door. "I'll get the emitter," he amended casually. "There's something I need to do over there anyway."

"Whatever floats your boat," I responded carelessly, throwing the words over my shoulder, not in the mood to wait for a reply before I left the house.

I took the back roads to the police station, holding the package in a way that screamed 'casual' rather than 'suspicious'. As I walked, I contemplated my behaviour.

Why was I doing everything I was told? The answer was easy I supposed – I was enamoured with Void. The bastard had crawled his way under my skin with the added help of being in my human boyfriend's body.

I didn't want to admit to myself that I knew tearing myself away from Void meant tearing myself away from the only connection to Stiles that I had left.

I shouldn't have cared – I wasn't _capable_ of caring, but the knowledge sat uncomfortably in the back of my mind, a lingering thread that refused to snap.

I forced the unpleasant thoughts from my mind, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, making my way to the station. Nobody gave me a second look as I slid into the building – though that may have been because of the early hour and lack of human presence – coming to a stop at the front desk.

A young, good looking deputy sat behind the desk, typing away at a keyboard, eyes locked onto a computer screen. He looked up when I entered, and there was no trace of recognition in his eyes – probably because he was new.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely, adjusting the radio on his shoulder and quirking his lips up into a welcoming smile.

"I'm just dropping off this package for John," I said casually, easily forcing a bright smile onto my lips that was a thousand parts fake and zero parts real.

"Oh, you know the Sheriff?" he asked pleasantly.

"Yup," I responded simply, carefully putting the box onto the counter, meeting the deputy's gaze. "But don't tell him who you got it from," I ordered, watching as his pupils dilated until his eyes were practically only black, the compulsion working as it always did. He was silent, staring up at me, until he blinked and the black was gone.

My brow furrowed, that shouldn't have been possible.

"Why not?" he asked suspiciously, and I realised it hadn't worked. Not at all.

Why the fuck not?

"He'll know it's from me once he opens it," I lied on the spot, an innocent and happy (and completely false) smile appearing on my face. "I want it to be a surprise."

He eyed me closely, and I could see him putting the pieces together in his mind. "You wouldn't happen to be Juliet Cooper, would you? The Sheriff's son's girlfriend?"

I was irritated but knew I had to keep my cool now that compulsion was out of the question. "You caught me," I said, the smile on my face turning sad. "With Stiles...not here...I put together care packages for the Sheriff." I leaned forwards, whispering consiprationally, "He's on a bit of a forced health-kick."

The deputy – 'Parrish' I realised with a glance at his name tag – smiled, buying into my words with all the ease of a bee finding flowers. "I'll make sure he gets it," he assured me with a grin. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"

"On my way now, officer," I responded cheerily, and he smiled one final time before I slipped from the warm air of the station and out into the misty grey of the early morning, the expression melting from my face like ice in the sunlight.

I sneered even though nobody was around to see it, huffing as I filed what I had just learned away for later, deciding that this 'Parrish' fellow didn't rate high enough on my priority list to be worth spending time on.

I had bigger things to focus me attention on.

* * *

**A/N: I dunno if anyone's a PVRIS fan, but I used one of the lyrics from the song in this chapter as dialogue. If you caught it, I applaud you.**

**Please give me some feedback on how I'm writing Juliet 'soulless'. I need to know if it's working for if I need to change tactics.**

**Talk to me guys – I love you all, and I swear I don't bite. **


	58. Kill of the Night

_The street's a liar_

_I'm gonna lure you into the dark_

_My cold desire_

_To hear the boom, boom, boom of your heart_

_The danger is I'm dangerous_

_And I might just tear you apart_

_I'm gonna catch ya_

_I'm gonna get ya_

_I wanna taste the way that you bleed_

_You're my kill of the night_

Kill of the Night – Gin Wigmore

* * *

Now that I was, essentially, soulless, school was nothing more than a swarm of snacks and playthings. My skin itched and my gums ached as I walked it's halls, people staring at me, taking in my intimidating getup, and all I wanted to do was rip open their throats and feast on their blood.

I avoided the gang for as long as I could. Void had said he'd needed me there, but not to let anyone know I was so...unhinged. It sounded simple in theory, but it wasn't such an easy thing to do.

Much easier to act soulless with a soul, than to act like you had a soul when you were soulless.

I managed to get a while without stumbling across the pack, but eventually a familiar voice rang out, "Jules?"

I paused, knowing I couldn't pretend I hadn't heard her – that would be ridiculous and incredibly transparent. "What?" I asked the banshee with a snap, and Lydia blinked in surprise at my harsh tone.

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded once she'd gathered her wits.

"Would you like me to list the answers alphabetically or in order of severity?"

She didn't look amused by my response. The bell rang and the gawking students began to race away. Lydia didn't move, and neither did I.

"You should go to class," I said, the words coming out as more of a warning than a suggestion.

"It's happened, hasn't it?" she asked, eyes sparkling as she stared at me. "It's gone."

We both knew what she meant, but fuck if I was going to acknowledge it. I allowed my lips to twitch up into a smirk, neither confirming nor denying her assumption, turning away and taking off steadily down the hall, the heels of my expensive (but stolen) boots clicking against the linoleum.

I desperately craved a cigarette, and I made my way towards the exit, only to pause when I heard familiar voices echoing through the empty halls.

"_Kitsune are tricksters, they're mischievous._ _They don't really get caught up in right or wrong – or even understand it."_

It was Kira's voice saying the words, and though it wasn't anything I didn't already know, it made me reassess Void's actions over the last few days. She was right, he really didn't have any concept of right or wrong, finding pleasure in things people wouldn't consider at all funny.

I probably shouldn't have liked that so much.

"What's that mean? It's just doing this for the hell of it?" Scott's voice followed, a rare note of bitterness in his tone.

"No, there was something else I found." Kira spoke warningly, a wince in her voice. "If you somehow offend a Nogitsune, they can react pretty badly."

"How do you offend a Nogitsune?"

"I don't know, but if it's doing something this bad, then someone really, _really_ offended it."

I decided to make my presence known, materialising in the corner of the hall, making Kira gasp loudly at my sudden, unexpected appearance. "This 'Nogitsune' sounds like a real hoot," I commented idly, a goading smirk set like cement on my lips.

Scott whipped around to fix me with a narrow-eyed stare. "I didn't know you were back in school," the alpha murmured after a a beat of heavy silence. "...how are you?"

The question was transparent at best, I could easily see exactly what he was fishing for. I opened my mouth to respond snidely, but Void's instructions echoed in my head. I had to act normal, or at least relatively so. "I'm fine," I assured him flatly. He shot me a skeptical look. "Do I not look fine?"

"You're not _acting _fine," he retorted, and Kira's heart raced in her chest, the sound of it pumping was gluggy and wet and completely appetising, making me salivate.

I pointedly ignored the girl, focusing instead on Scott. "I'm _acting_ like a _vampire_, Scott," I corrected him snidely. "What's wrong with that?" the question was asked dangerously, I was daring him to respond.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the bell rang from overhead. Kira grasped Scott's arm in her dainty little hands, gently attempting to pull him away. "Do you know where Stiles is?" the werewolf asked, puppy-brown eyes meeting mine, something like pain and desperation in their depths.

I carefully considered my answer. "Why would I know where he is?" I asked, knowing full well that my lengthy silence was all the answer they needed.

"If anyone is going to know, it'll be you," he said, voice calmer than I expected.

There was a tiny little part of me that whispered to say yes, to tell him that I _did_ know where Stiles was. But my nature was to lie, and I was sick of rejecting my nature. "No," I lied with perfect ease, no heartbeat to give me away, not even so much as a twitch of my expression.

"No, you don't know; or no, you won't tell me?"

I smirked, his words amusing. "No."

He looked frustrated by my answer, but kept his cool as he was so very good at doing. "Come on, Scott," Kira urged him, tugging at his arm once again, heart racing.

Finally he looked away, defeat causing his shoulders to drop. "Scott," I murmured under my breath as they paused before ducking around a corner, the wolf turning to look at me once more. "He may be closer than you think," I said enigmatically, and he frowned before disappearing from sight.

Not a full hour later, I heard the sound of the emitter radiating throughout the entire school.

It was starting.

* * *

Void was adamant that I wait in the wings. He had the whole day planned – he knew everyone's moves before the day had even started. I just hoped he was better at acting like Stiles than I was at pretending to have humanity.

I had enough of the charade by lunch, and I decided – to hell with him, I was going to do as I pleased.

I left the school without a semblance of guilt, sticking a cigarette between my teeth and digging in my pocket for a lighter. I was only a street away from the school when my phone buzzed. I fished it out, checking the screen to see an incoming text from 'Stiles'.

_Get yourself arrested. No murder. Yet._

I wondered how the fuck he found the time to text me without anybody noticing, but I decided not to question it, instead considering the request.

He wanted me to get arrested? I had to admit, as far as assignments went, I'd been given worse.

As I puffed on my smoke, I thought over my options. I wanted a front-row seat to whatever the hell was going on today, and if that meant having to be stuck in a police station, then so be it. It'd been a while since I'd willingly gotten in trouble with the law anyway, who knew? It could be fun.

Then all I needed to figure out was _how_ to get arrested.

My first thought was murder, as Void obviously knew it would be, but he'd been quick to stop that idea before it could fully form. Another option was vandalism, but I swiftly decided that was far too tame for my tastes. So, instead, I made my way to the nearest dive bar, slipping inside and propping myself up at the bar, ordering a simple drink and downing it right away before cracking my neck and knuckles in preparation.

I scanned the room, coming up with three solid candidates for my devious plan. The first looked too scrawny to last even a minute, the next wearing a suit expensive enough to mean he'd definitely press charges – a hassle I didn't need – and the last was an older guy with his face in a glass and cocaine burns on his nose.

Perfect.

I strode up to him, my high heels tapping again, the sound familiarly empowering, then in one smooth move I tapped him on the shoulder, he looked up in confusion and I decked him clean across the face, sending him careening off the barstool and sprawled out on the dirty floor.

"Way to take a punch, you little pussy," I yelled down at him as he blinked dazedly up at the ceiling, trying to process exactly what had just happened. "Well? What're you gonna do about it, fuck-tard?"

The scent of blood filled the room as his nose bled, but still he clamoured to his feet, struggling a great deal as the bar went completely silent, everyone waiting to see what would happen with tasteless anticipation.

He swung, the move sloppy and uncoordinated. I didn't bother dodging the punch, instead letting it hit me in the face. As soon as the kid hit me – a _girl_ – two men from the corner hurried over, dying to play the knight in shining armour. The bartender, a young woman probably too young to be working there in the first place, was already dialling the phone, speaking in hushed words to the dispatcher on the other end.

"I think you've both had enough-" one of my heroes was saying.

"You can't hit a fucking _girl_, you idiot-" the other one murmured, pulling the sweaty guy away from me.

I didn't give them an opportunity to break things up, deciding, what the hell, why not make it an all-out brawl?

I kicked the guy on the right between the legs, setting him out for the count, before turning my attention to the remaining players. Their eyes were wide, realising I wasn't backing down, and now they had no choice but to fight a woman, one who was _clearly_ going to kick their asses.

The blonde one swung, and I let it hit my cheek. It was barely hard enough to bruise. "My mother hits harder than that, and she's been in the ground for two hundred years," I quipped with a sly grin, and he barely had time to send me a look of pure confusion before I slammed the heel of my hand into his nose.

My palm came away smeared with blood, and I took a moment to lick it, smirking wickedly at the bartender who gagged when she saw my action.

The fight didn't last long, and the police got there surprisingly quickly considering the other messes in town they were no doubt being stretched for.

It was two deputies I barely recognised, a man and a woman, and I considered continuing to fight, letting them end up taser me into submission, but ultimately I knew it would just weaken me, so I allowed them to cuff me, grinning in my own personal knowledge that I could snap the restraints at any time.

They read me my rights, and I huffed as they gently forced me into the back of the cruiser.

The trip was a silent one. There was blood on my shirt and hands, and I was hungry, longing to lick it off – but I was a good girl, merely watching the officers through narrowed eyes that quite clearly made them uneasy. They led me into the station, which was abuzz with activity, fires needing putting out all over town.

"Fancy seeing you two here," I chirped cheerily as I spotted Argent and Derek sitting on the bench, each cuffed to the rail, both with scowls on their faces.

"Could say the same about you," Derek murmured with a snarl. "And look, you're covered in blood, what a surprise," he drawled sarcastically, but I did no more than smile wickedly. The deputy cuffed me to a spot a few feet away from the pair, giving me a stern glare before turning away and disappearing out the door. "What's he up to?" the werewolf asked the moment prying human ears were out of range.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked with faux innocence, blinking my wide green eyes sweetly.

"Your boyfriend," he snapped back, grinding his jaw irritatedly.

Argent rolled his eyes. "He's the reason we're in here," he elaborated softly, glancing out over the room of bustling officers.

"Oh, I'm well aware of why you're in here," I responded smoothly, an impish grin on my face.

They paused, taking in the information. "What do you know?" the hunter demanded, clearly struggling to keep his volume under control.

I said nothing. "Where have you been?" Derek tried to make me talk. "Stiles is possessed by a Nogitsune and you're nowhere to be found?"

I couldn't have stopped my giggle if I'd tried. It bubbled from my lips, the sound as deranged and unhinged as I felt inside. The two men were silent, watching me cackle with varying degrees of confusion and concern.

I cut the sound off as quickly as I could, knowing I was meant to be acting at least _slightly_ more put-together. I turned away from them, the laughter remaining in my eyes as I faced the opposite wall, bringing my feet up to fold them underneath me, lapsing back into silence as I waited for things to unfold.

The hunter clearly wanted to ask the wolf what the fuck was wrong with me, but couldn't with me right there, so he stayed quiet, all of us silent until Derek finally spoke up. "I could easily get out of these, you know," he murmured, tugging gently at his cuffs.

"So could I," Argent replied under his breath. "But I'm not interested in being a fugitive from the law."

"Well," Derek countered snippily. "I'm not interested in being a victim to a seventeen year old possessed by a psychotic _fox_."

"Just give me a few more minutes." The werewolf ignored him, cuffs clinking loudly. "_Derek!_"

"Fine, but if something happens, don't expect me to risk my life to save yours," he snapped with a growl. I chuckled again, but thankfully this time it was silent, nothing more than the slight shake of my shoulders to give me away. They had no idea what was coming, and there was something so incredibly satisfying about being the one with the knowledge.

Seemingly all at once there was a shift in the mood of the office, deputies desperately rushing around the room, a sense of frenzied panic filling the air. I grinned, the expression all teeth as I leaned back against the wall behind me, watching the chaos unfold.

An officer ran up to the three of us, hastily unlocking Argent's cuffs with shaky hands. "What's happening?" the hunter demanded, but the deputy didn't answer.

Another peal of uncontrollable laughter bubbled from my lips. I tipped my head back, giggles escaping me as I tapped the floor with my heels, the amusement all consuming. The sounds of the bomb in the office behind us grew louder and louder, and Derek's head whipped around so his eyes could meet mine.

I smirked wickedly, pausing to wink at him teasingly as I easily snapped the chain of the cuffs holding me to the bench, diving down under the desk in front of me just as the bomb exploded.

The blast wouldn't hurt me either way, but I didn't want to have to pull the debris from my hair afterwards.

I waited a long moment, my ears ringing from the explosion, slight cuts littering my exposed skin from where the shrapnel of nails had bitten into my flesh. By the time the small cuts had closed, I slipped out from under the desk, climbing to my feet and staring around the room, surveying the damage.

I sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the flavour of blood that clung to the air, making my mouth water.

I stepped over a collapsed beam, heading in a perfect circle around the room, my eyes sliding over bodies of injured people filling the space as I waited for the cavalry to arrive. Finally that got boring, so I sat back on the bench and pulled out a cigarette, cupping my hand around the end as I lit it, breathing deeply and waiting for time to pass.

The Sheriff and the rescue crews staggered into the building, all yelling at the top of their lungs. I glanced down at myself, seeing not only blood but also now ash and dirt staining my clothes. I pouted, brushing a gathering of dust from my shoulder.

Scott and Stiles slipped past me, the former paying me absolutely no attention while the latter met my gaze, taking the time to send me a victorious smirk through the shadows of the destroyed station. I grinned back for a brief second, then allowed my face to slip into it's usual emotional mask, puffing at my smoke as I waited impatiently for things to get moving.

Kira appeared in the doorway as the two boys were leaving. "The Oni, they're coming."

"Stiles, we've gotta get you out of here!" Scott stressed, panic creeping into his voice.

"Not without Juliet," Void yelled back, ripping his arm away from the wolf to gesture at me where I stood a few paces back, head tilted as I observed their movements.

"Stiles, that's not a good idea-" Scott attempted to argue.

"Not without Juliet!" he repeated firmly, heartbeat steady, something that should have alerted Scott to the fact he wasn't who he was pretending to be.

I didn't wait for Scott's answer, instead winding my arm through Void's and nodding for Scott to lead the way out of the station. The jeep was parked haphazardly outside the building, spread over two spaces, though nobody cared. We walked quickly through the shadows, the rain wetting our clothes before we climbed into the vehicle, Void driving and Scott in the passenger seat while I situated myself in the back with Kira, much to both of our displeasure.

"You've got some blood..." the girl trailed off, pointing to a spot on my cheek where I must have been cut and the wound had healed, leaving the red stain behind. I tilted my head at her, reaching up to wipe the blood away, meeting her eyes as I sucked the finger into my mouth, eagerly licking the blood away. Kira looked like she wanted to gag, much like the bartender had done not a full hour ago during the brawl.

"We need to get to the animal clinic," Scott spoke up once we were driving,

"The animal clinic?" Kira asked, heart racing as she forced her eyes away from me. I smirked at her obvious discomfort.

"The place is lined with mountain ash – it's like my house. It'll buy us some time."

"But they can get through it?" Void asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah – eventually."

"Nobody's got any better ideas?" The car was silent. "Okay, sure, animal clinic."

I knew Scott wanted to breach the topic of my attitude, but I think he was smart enough to realise that, whatever the reason behind it, now was the worst possible time to do so. The wheels screeched as Void parked sloppily in the parking lot, and I stepped out into the rain, tipping my face up to the sky and gently scrubbing the remaining dirt and blood from my skin.

Finally I followed the others around to the doors, only to freeze when I realised we weren't the only ones in the parking lot.

"Stiles, get inside!" Scott shouted over the storm, claws extended as he glared warningly at the waiting Oni, eyes glowing red.

There was no need for me to fight, and I sure as hell wasn't going to waste my time doing so. I suppressed the urge to yawn, strolling through the rain and into the clinic, past a smirking Void and into the dry room. He said nothing, knowing we'd be overheard by Scott anyway.

"Get him inside!" he shouted, darting back out into the downpour and dragging the wolf back into the building, the door groaning shut behind them.

As I glanced over him, my eyes were drawn to the hilt of a sword poking from his gut, the scent of his blood filling the room like a perfume.

"Okay, okay," Kira whispered in Scott's direction, though we all knew it was more for herself. Her small hands wrapped around the giant sword puncturing his abdomen, preparing to pull it out. I glanced at Void, who inclined his head, his eyes suddenly completely and utterly dead, any trace of Stiles long, _long_ gone.

I yanked the young girl away from Scott, who stared in confusion. She yelped in shock as I wrapped my fingers around her throat, holding her against me and leaning down to gently rub my nose against her shoulder. I closed my eyes and my lip curled back, fangs exposed and prepared to sink into her flesh.

"Uh, uh, uh," Void tutted sternly, and I pried my eyes open, glaring at him with bloodied eyes through the dark. "What did I say about murder?"

I pouted, but did as I was told and used the hand on Kira's throat to slam her head into the corner of the table, quickly and efficiently knocking her unconscious. I dropped her deadweight to the ground, purring at the sound of her head colliding with the floor.

Void sighed, as though my methods weren't to his liking, before he strolled back over to Scott, who was staring over at us with horror in his puppy-dog eyes. He let his fingers danced over the hilt of the sword protruding from his body, and I waited in breathless anticipation for what would happen next.

He grasped the hilt, and with a gluggy sound twisted the sword inside Scott's body. The wolf cried out in pure agony and shock, tears appearing in his eyes as he sat helpless against the table, barely able to move, let alone breathe.

I let another peal of laughter leave my lips, the sound haunting, coming from a place of sick amusement. Scott glanced over at me, betrayal and confusion in his eyes, only making me giggle louder as I stared over Void's shoulder, eagerly looking down at the wolf's bleeding wound.

"Does it hurt?" he asked the gasping werewolf. "Look at me," he ordered calmly. "You should have done your reading Scott. See, the Nogitsune feeds off chaos and strife and _pain_," he murmured, a beautiful pleasure in his expression, beads of rain water dripping down his face. "This morning you took it from Isaac, then you took it from Coach, and then from a dying deputy." Void shuddered, like just talking about it got him off. "All that pain, you took it all...now..._give it to me_."

He pressed his hand against his face, doing something only a Nogitsune could and absorbing it all. It gave him pure, unadulterated pleasure, if the look on his face was anything to go by. It made my lower body ache with need as I pressed against his back, breathing in his scent and wishing I could feel it too.

Not a full minute later it was over, though I was still left with a burning need for him in the best way possible. I tuned everything out, listening to his steady heart as my nails clutched at his skin, desperate to climb inside him, to consume him entirely.

"Scott, you really have to learn not to trust a fox," he sneered, amusement flickering in his cold, dead eyes. "'Cause they're tricksters...they'll fool you. They'll fool everyone."

The teen wolf opened his mouth, clearly trying to say something, though the words got stuck in his throat.

In the corner of my mind, I registered the sounds of feather light footsteps on the floor, and in an instant I leapt away from Void, snarling into the shadows at Deaton, who had his arm raised to strike. I caught it with ease, twisting the appendage at the wrist until the doctor was forced to drop whatever pitiful weapon he held in his hand.

"Ah, ah, ah," I tutted in disapproval, gripping his wrist tighter, the bones groaning under the pressure, ready to give way any second.

"I've taken precautions, you see," Void said to Deaton casually, one hand still on the katana sticking out from Scott's abdomen, head turned to smirk victoriously at the veterinarian. "Do you like my shiny new toy?"

"Do you like mine?" the voice was familiar, and it shocked me to my core – how hadn't I heard her coming? That shouldn't have been possible. Ms Morrell held a gun in my direction, and I tilted my head challengingly, wondering what exactly she planned to do with it. Before I could voice my question, the loud bang of the gun echoed through the room.

There was a searing pain in my forehead, and I realised exactly what she'd been planning to do with the weapon. "Fucking hell," I groaned as my legs gave way, my body quickly shutting down, all my energy being used on slowly healing the wooden bullet to the brain that I'd just received.

Bloody emissaries.

* * *

**A/N: Pretty small chapter, but the next one's a bigger one with much more interaction between our favourite pair. Also, there are a few conversations to be had, ones that might require tissues :'(**

**By the way, I'm utterly obsessed with Harry Potter – Draco/OC stories at the moment. I'm currently reading 'Green Eyed Monster' by sphinxs-legend. It's long and completely amazing – but I'll be finished eventually, and I know I'll want more to read. If you guys have any recommendations, that would be awesome!**

**Love to each and every one of you ~ xoxo**


	59. I Like It Heavy

**A/N: Please read the author's note at the bottom you guys – I'm looking for beta readers for a new story! **

_I got a demon in my soul and a voice in my head_

_It's saying GO! GO! GO! I can sleep when I'm dead_

_There's a sonic revelation bringing me to my knees_

_And there's a man down below who needs my sympathy_

_Got a ringing in my ears getting ready to burst_

_Screaming "Hallelujah Motherfucker take me to church"_

I Like It Heavy – Halestorm

* * *

I awoke with a gasp and a jolt, blinking up at the ceiling, my vision fuzzy but slowly focusing. My head ached, the pain stabbing but familiar – my body was pushing a bullet from it's skull. I narrowed my eyes, trying to recognise something about the roof above me, hoping it would give me a clue about where I was.

It was some kind of room in a spacious looking loft. I groaned, lifting a hand to my head, working through the pain as I tried to remember what was familiar about the room.

Derek. It looked like Derek's loft, only different.

I needed blood – my gums ached and my throat burned. I forced myself into a sitting position, a wince on my face as everything blurred again before coming right. The room I was in was dark, but that wasn't a problem for my eyes, which cut through the shadows like they didn't exist.

I sure as hell wasn't planning to stay where I was, so with a grunt I forced myself to my feet, shuffling in the direction of the large door that I assumed was the exit – only to stop abruptly, a familiar invisible barrier making it impossible for me to move any closer to the door.

"What the...?" I trailed off, eyes shifting down to the floor, where a clear boundary of mountain ash and vervain was sprinkled across the floor in a sharp line, keeping me boxed in the corner of the room. "Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" the words were spat from my mouth with bitter fury. I let a scream escape my lips, the sound thick with rage as I slammed my hands against the barrier, furiously trying to break it down; it was no use, I was no Original.

The time passed slowly. I groaned with boredom, pacing the length of my prison like a tiger in a cage, an angry scowl on my lips, exposing my sharp, ready fangs.

The moonlight shone through the large wall of windows behind me, and it wasn't until the sun was peeking up over the horizon that I heard footsteps outside the room. The door was pulled open with a heave, revealing an unpleasantly familiar face.

Neither of us said anything, watching each other closely, waiting to see who would be the first to break.

In the end, it was him. "You're in one of the empty lofts in Derek's building," Deaton told me, something I'd already figured out myself. His scent wafted over me, human sweat and pheromones. It made me ache – I was so _hungry_. "Do you know why you're here?" he asked calmly, watching me with cool eyes.

I said nothing, watching him through my own narrowed eyes, observing every little move he made, waiting patiently to be given a reason to speak.

"How long have you been without your humanity?"

The questioned surprised me slightly, though I gave no indication that it did, merely tilting my head, fixing the Doctor with my cold stare.

"How many people have you killed?"

His words made me laugh, the first sound to leave my lips since he entered the room. The sound was deranged, much like I was, so it suited me.

"This isn't you, Juliet," he said mildly, a frown on his features.

I purred, my interest peaked. "I think you'll find that I'm more _me_ than I have been since arriving in this pathetic excuse for a community," I finally spoke, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet as I once more inhaled his deliciously human scent.

"That isn't true," the doctor said patiently. "And you know it."

"What do you want from me, huh?" I asked suddenly, glaring at him suspiciously through the early morning haze leaking through the frosted windows.

"I want you to turn it back on."

I giggled again, his words predictable and amusing. "It's going to take more than a strongly worded request from an ex-emissary to make that happen," I told him, the dark amusement curling at my lips.

He decided to try another tactic. "The Nogitsune _isn't_ Stiles," he said, a tightness in his voice. "It's _possessing_ Stiles." I said nothing, giving no visible reaction to his words. "How can you be okay with that?"

"Stiles is gone," the decision to speak wasn't my own, but I rolled with it, deciding to go with my instincts on this one.

"The Nogitsune is suppressed for now," he told me calmly. "Stiles is himself again." I waited for the ache to come, but none did, making my lips curl up in a wicked smirk that would have frightened a lesser man, but Deaton's heartbeat remained steady.

"_For. Now_," I slowly echoed his words with a click of my tongue, the smirk licking at my lips.

"Are you really saying you care more about the Nogitsune than you do about Stiles?" I didn't respond, tilting my head idly. "We both know that's a lie."

"You see, _doctor_," I said the word with absolute condescension. "I don't care about _anything _anymore, that's what having no humanity _means_ – or didn't they teach you that at witch-doctor college?"

Deaton merely hummed, the sound contemplative as he watched me. I stayed perfect still, trying to predict his next move. "Okay," he finally murmured, abruptly turning and walking from the room, footsteps echoing on the wooden floorboards.

"What, you're just going to leave me here?!" I shouted after him, irritation curdling in my stomach. "At least bring me somebody to snack on, for fuck sake!" He said nothing, the groaning of the door filling the room as he pulled it shut. "Prick," I muttered bitterly, lip curling back in frustration.

Things once more settled into maddening silence. I had no source of entertainment, and I was starving, my body still healing from the bullet to the brain, needing blood to bounce back.

I sat down on the floor, boredom setting in as I lethargically scratched profanities into the floor with my nails.

_Derek Hale has a small cock_.

I smirked, pleased by the petty move, reminded of a time I wrote nearly the exact same thing on the wall in the bathroom at the high school, being caught by the great banshee herself.

Once I'd run out of witty things to scratch into the floor, boredom set in once more. I groaned, laying back and hitting my head against the ground, frustration over running me.

I missed Void – as much as I _could_ miss someone in my state – at least he kept things interesting. What were they planning to do with me anyway? Keep me locked in this Godforsaken loft for all of eternity? I knew switching on my humanity was a sure fire way to get free – but it would be a cold day in hell when I complied to _that_ demand.

The sun was out of view from the window when I once more heard footsteps on the landing beyond the door. I remained laying down, staring up at the ceiling with a blank expression, curiosity gripping me, though I remained nonchalant.

The door was pulled open, and I glanced over as the teen wolf himself slipped into the room, a rare sadness etched across his young features. "Hm," I purred lowly, returning my gaze to the ceiling. "If it isn't the boy who cried wolf."

"You're better than this, Jules," Scott said, his voice pleading. Clearly he wasn't going to beat around the bush, something I could appreciate. "Don't ruin all your progress now."

"My progress?" I asked idly, my tone bored. "You mean the thing that made me absolutely miserable for the better part of a year?"

"That isn't true."

His words angered me – it was the third time I'd heard them in as many hours – enough so that before the boy could blink I was back on my feet and slamming into the barrier, hitting it with a loud thud that echoed through the empty room. "Don't you _dare_ tell me what is or isn't true about _my_ life," I snarled, spitting the words with disgusted fury. Who did this _dog_ think he was?

The rage rolled off me in waves, and you didn't have to be supernatural to sense how I was seething, a barely contained explosion hovering just under my skin. A week ago I could have reined in my anger, but now there was no conscience to keep me under control. What was the point? Why did it matter? I shouldn't have had to rein in my anger for anyone, let alone a self-righteous teen wolf.

"This isn't you, Jules," he tried again, but I was having none of it.

"You don't have a _clue_ who I am, little wolf," it was a pet name I'd used before, but now it was said with clear revulsion, condescension and disdain, no hint of the fondness it had once held. My face remained coiled in an ugly snarl, eyes bloody and teeth glistening as I glared at him, daring him to step over the line so we could settle this like real creatures of the night.

"I bet you're hungry."

The words were so surprising that I had to take a minute, the snarl dropping from my features, giving way to a bemused scowl. "What?" I asked as I cocked my head. My throat burned, reminding me how ravenous I truly was. We both knew I was starving. "What game are you playing?" I asked dangerously, a rare warning in my tone.

He said nothing, and though I knew I was being baited, I still couldn't stop myself.

"You gonna starve me until I give in and give you what you want?" I asked sharply, my tone goading. Scott didn't react. "I think you'll find that I'm immeasurably and unyieldingly stubborn."

Scott frowned as I sneered at him, pressing my clawed hands against the barrier, fangs flashing threateningly. "Don't make me go to plan B, Jules," he said, and I was sure I wasn't imagining the slight plea in his voice.

A wicked grin formed on my lips as I suddenly bounced on my toes, cocking my head to the side, a thick leer on my features. "Oh, _please_ go to plan B," I jeered, creeping forward as far as I could, the tips of my shoes pressing against the boundary.

Scott shot me a heartbroken expression, like he was wondering how I could have fallen so far from grace. It meant nothing to me, and I smirked back, eagerly awaiting the next phase of their _brilliant_ plan.

* * *

The room was silent and the air was still. I sat, legs crossed under me, hands placed lazily on my knees in a stereotypical meditation pose. At first the boredom had eaten away at me, but eventually I hit what you might call a 'wall'. The boredom came to an abrupt halt, instead I found peace in the silence and calm in the stillness.

It had been hours since anybody had come to see me, I was completely and utterly alone, something I hadn't been used to since coming to this Godforsaken town.

The sun had long since sunk below the horizon, and I was once more plunged into darkness, though I found it more comforting than most. Not quite comfortable enough to sleep, I merely sat, my eyes closed as I focused on my breathing.

Footsteps on the landing interrupted my exercise, and I cracked my eyes open, peering at the still-closed door with suspicion. There were hushed voices on the other side, but I couldn't quite make out what they were saying – I had yet to fully recover from the shot to the brain, what with no blood supplied to help the process along. Unfortunately, this left my senses dulled.

I let my eyes slip closed again, once more portraying a care-free atmosphere as the door was yanked open, the hinges screeching in protest.

His scent hit me before anything else, and my muscles coiled, preparing to lunge, though I successfully held myself back.

"Jules?" his voice was then next thing to reach me, and instantly I knew this wasn't Void I was speaking to, but rather the vessel he inhabited. I purred loudly, the sound curious and pondering as it bounced off the walls of the loft, my head tilting to the left, stretching my neck which had begun to ache from lack of use. "Jules," he repeated, tone pleading.

I reluctantly snapped my eyes open, my emerald green stare pinning him where he stood in the doorway, noticing Scott and Deaton standing behind him, watching the scene with caution. "Hello Stiles," I spoke quietly, my tone as hollow as my chest.

Stiles turned around, glancing at his protective detail. "I'll be fine," he assured them softly, the sound carrying in the large, empty space. "She won't hurt me."

"This isn't the Juliet you know, Stiles," Deaton warned him seriously, keeping his eyes on the meek boy's face, not meeting my eyes. "This is a demon that thrives on chaos. Someone without inhibitions, without a _conscience._"

Stiles hesitated. "But so am I, aren't I?" he asked, and his words were met with silence. "I'll be okay," he told them once it was clear neither had a response. "I need to do this alone."

They looked reluctant to allow it, but Scott's eyes slid across the room to meet mine. I stared back blankly, my expression giving absolutely nothing away. "It's okay," Scott told his boss in a gentle voice, chocolate gaze moving back to Stiles. "Let him do it."

Deaton agreed on the grounds that the door remained open and he swore not to cross the barrier of mountain ash – a wise decision, because I couldn't guarantee he'd leave unharmed if he did.

The two of them backed away, no longer visible in the doorway, though I could hear their heartbeats from the other side of the wall.

The room once more fell into silence as Stiles turned back to me, grimace fixed on his face, like speaking to me was causing actual, physical pain.

I probably should have been hurt by that.

I wasn't.

"How are you?" he began awkwardly, a crease appearing between his brows. I didn't answer, listening to the wet thumping of his heart, following the dip of his adams apple as he swallowed. "You don't look so good."

His words were slightly confusing. I _felt _fine, why wouldn't I _look_ it?

He seemed to sense my question without words, something I was mildly surprised he could still do. "You look like you feel…sad…"

"I don't feel _anything,_" I couldn't help but correct, my voice sharp and cutting, making the boy wince. It was the second time I'd had to remind them of that fact. "That's the _point."_

"What happened, Jules?" he asked desperately. There was fear in his honey eyes, shining clear as day. I would have had to have been blind not to see it. It didn't bother me. "I need you. Don't go all _Angelus _on me now."

I frowned confusedly, mildly irritated by the use of phrases that obviously didn't make sense to me. "I don't understand that reference."

His handsome face lit up like I'd told him the best news possible, a spark of hope igniting in his gaze that made me wary. "You're still in there," he whispered the words this time, these ones even more puzzling than the last. "I knew it, you're still _there_. You're just...buried."

I watched him closely, observing every little move he made. I could see why it might be easy to love him, but for the life of me I couldn't bring myself to feel anything beyond a voracious hunger for the optimistic looking boy.

"Come back to me Jules," he said suddenly, kneeling down on the ground just shy of the barrier, meeting my emerald gaze with hope and desperation, looking for something I knew he wouldn't find. "Jules, if you're in there – come back to me."

I managed to keep a straight face for a full ten seconds, before I could no longer contain myself, a hysterical giggle escaping my chapped lips. I closed my eyes to laugh, and when I pried them open again, the boy's shoulders had sagged in disappointment.

"That's rich," I giggled, dropping from my meditation pose, instead manoeuvring onto all fours and crawling over to the boundary of mountain ash, a dark and amused smirk on my face. "You think I'm _possessed_," I said the word with a cackle, nose crinkling at the thought. "You're _wrong,_" I sang the word, delighted when fear flickered in his eyes. "_You're _the one who's possessed, _darling_," the pet name was dripping with condescension. "Not me."

His eyes began to glisten, and he dropped back onto his ass, arms curling around his knees as he tucked his head out of sight. I didn't let this deter me, intent on ripping into him verbally, since I was currently unable to do so physically.

"It's _me_, Stiles," I hummed, my voice turning breathy and innocent. "It isn't a demon, or a ghost, a witch or a dark kitsune. It's _me_ as I _truly _am." Stiles sucked in a shaky breath, face still hidden from sight, though his shoulders shuddered heavily. "The other me, the one you fell in love with? She doesn't exist. She's a _lie_. And she is _never_ coming back to you."

"You're wrong." He spoke without lifting his head, but his voice was stronger than I'd assumed it would be.

"Rarely, little boy," I sneered, creeping closer to the barrier, our skin only inches away from each other, separated by the magical boundary that I so very loathed.

He picked up his head, meeting my eyes. I was mildly surprised to see his eyes wet, though a single tear had yet to spill over. His jaw was tight, like he was clenching his teeth in an effort to keep control. "This isn't the real you," he said, chin tilting up defiantly. "This is a curse. And it _will_ be lifted."

Another coil of amusement curled in my gut, and I tilted my head, a lazy smirk smeared across my lips. "Oh Stiles, you're always the one to figure it out," I told him patronisingly, dark laughter in my eyes. "But not this time."

He was silent, watching me through damp eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly. "Do you love him?" The question threw me, and for a beat I struggled to hide my reaction. Instead I pasted innocent intrigue across my face. "The Nogitsune," he elaborated, though it was hardly necessary. "Do you love him?"

I giggled again, genuinely entertained by the question. "Stiles," I sighed condescendingly, reaching a hand out as though to touch him, only to be inevitably stopped by the barrier, my fingers splayed against the boundary as though it were glass. "I'm not _capable _of love."

I met his eyes, mildly surprised by the amount of pain in his expression. I tilted my head, finding it curious that it was affecting him so. I didn't even know that sort of emotion was possible in _general_, let alone possible to feel for a soulless, selfish, bloodthirsty monster like myself.

I bounced back from the negative thought process, jerking away from Stiles, unable to stand the emotion in his honeycomb eyes. It made me angry, and I couldn't resist a snarl in his direction as I crept backwards, once more putting much needed space between us.

His mouthwatering scent was driving me insane and my eyes flooded with blood, a natural response to the displayed meal. He didn't look frightened by my threatening body language, instead he seemed only more saddened, an emotion I could only describe as agony crossing his face.

He baffled me, not reacting as I assumed he would.

How had we once been together? I seemed to barely know the kid.

"Unless you're going to offer to tap a vein, you can go," I said with clear dismissal, lazily waving him away with my hand as if he were no more than an irritating insect.

"What am I meant to do without you?!"

The question was hardly contained, more so shouted at me from where he was crouched, the boy suddenly rearing back only to stumble to his feet, a look of complete and utter desperation and heartache on his features. I leaned back in slight surprise, my own face giving nothing away, instead watching his every move through narrowed green eyes.

"I need you now, more than ever before, and you're just...leaving me?" he sounded incredulous, like he couldn't fathom my actions. "This isn't fair!"

"You know what's not fair?!" I hissed back, leaping to my feet and pressing against the barrier, a furious snarl curling at my lips. "Trying to _tame_ a vampire."

"I never-"

"You all did," I snapped before he could finish. "Tried to tame me, then expected me to behave like anything but myself." Stiles looked like I'd punched him in the stomach, but I barrelled on, taking pleasure from his reaction. "_This_ is who I really am, _this _is how I really act, and I'll be _damned_ if any one of you naïve little children are going to stop me!"

Stiles' eyes once more watered, but he was stubborn, teeth grinding together to try and rein in the emotion.

"I'm a wild animal, Stiles," I said, my voice calming down, though I still glared daggers at the kid. "You can't domesticate me. Eventually I'm going to bite someone." I couldn't have stopped my smirk if I'd tried. "Quite literally," I added gleefully, amused by my wordplay as I snapped my jaws, my teeth gnashing together with a threatening sound the echoed around the room. He stared at me through pained, narrowed eyes, watching my every move carefully, like I was an escaped mental patient whose moves he was trying to predict.

Like he didn't trust me – which should have hurt.

It didn't.

I stared back coldly, no hint of a spark in my dead gaze. Something seemed to change in Stiles. He sighed heavily, rubbing a hand across his forehead before once more sitting down on the floor, crossing his legs under him and propping his chin up in his hand.

"My dad almost didn't let me come," he began conversationally, only serving to confuse me. "But I begged – didn't tell him what was wrong with you, of course, him hating you on top of everything else isn't something I think I can deal with right now."

I snickered at the thought of the Sheriff hating me. Of course he would, especially if he knew about my steadily rising body count.

"What's funny?" Stiles asked, genuinely curious, staring up at me through the barrier where I remained on my feet, enjoying the illusion of power it gave me.

"Just thinking about how little he will approve of me if he discovered my growing body count," I mentioned casually, something between a sneer and a smirk spread across my lips.

Stile's heart stuttered in his chest and his face drained of the blood I craved so very much. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice suddenly raspy, like he'd just finished gargling nails.

The amusement was sitting in my chest, warring for dominance with my hunger which clawed at my insides like the beast it was. "Hm," I hummed, the sound contemplative and hungry as I eyed him, watching the blood pump so close to the surface, just barely under the skin – his heart beginning to race in his chest as panic no doubt gripped him. "Why don't you step over the boundary and I'll tell you all about it, handsome?" I purred enticingly. I knew it was pointless, but I made my pupils contract anyway, my voice soothing in a way that greatly contradicted the reality of the threat I posed.

Stiles looked frozen where he sat, his muscles tense and spine straight. Scott, sensing the panic he was exuding and no doubt listening in on the conversation, darted into the room, coming to a stop behind Stiles, glaring at me something fierce, his eyes glowing red. Deaton appeared behind him, stony faced and apprehensive.

"How many?" Stiles asked numbly, brow furrowed as he tried to process what I was telling him.

"I'm not an ancient knight with a heart-of-gold and a moral-code, Stiles," I sneered condescendingly. "I don't _count_."

"A lot, huh?" he murmured, sounding resigned and pained in the same instant.

"Do you want me to talk about it, Stiles?" I asked, my tone soft and gentle. He glanced up in hope. Scott shifted anxiously behind him, eyes focused solely on me. "Do you want me to tell you how I just _couldn't_ _control_ myself. How I just _snapped_." His eyes were wet, and I took pleasure in evoking such a strong reaction.

I was like a school-ground bully – I only did it for the reaction.

"Or how about I tell you how their blood was slick and hot as it ran down my throat. How it smeared on my skin, leaving stains for days that made me smile every time I saw them. Oh, I could tell you about how they struggled and _begged_ for their lives, each and every one of them – you know how I like it when they scream."

Stiles was getting more pale with every word that passed my lips, and Scott crouched down, pressing a comforting hand onto his shoulder, though the boy barely registered that he'd appeared at all.

I was thrilled, feeling more alive than I had in weeks. I hated him, I hated him so much because _he_ was the one who left _me_. _He_ was the one to domesticate me like some common house pet. _He _was the one to force me to be something other than what I was. _He _was the one who forced me to feel _love_.

"Or how about I tell you that this isn't a new development?" I added gleefully, life finally appearing in my bloody eyes, a sick enjoyment that only a vampire could understand as I tore into him with everything I had. "The first person I killed came _weeks _before I flipped my switch," I told him through a leer. "The only difference now is that I feel _no guilt_."

Scott decided he'd had enough while Stiles appeared to be frozen on the cold floor of the loft. The werewolf had to curl his fingers around Stiles' arm and forcefully tug him to his feet, beginning to drag the possessed human backwards from the dimly lit room.

"That's right, pup – run away!" I yelled after them, jeering with pleasure as Stiles' eyes had yet to leave my face. I forced even more blood to my eyes, the dark substance filling the veins surrounding my orbs, inky black lines crawling over my porcelain skin. My fangs burst forwards and I pressed myself as absolutely close to the barrier as I could, the deadly weapons glinting in the moonlight. "Bring me a child to snack on next! They always taste the sweetest! I love to feel their little hearts flutter in their chests like butterflies as I drain every drop of blood from their body!" I screamed after them, making sure the horrified human heard every last word.

As the door slammed closed, the last sound Stiles heard was my deranged cackling and the last thing he saw were my bloody red eyes glinting with hunger and hatred.

* * *

The days wore on, and I got impatient.

The only person to stop by and _visit_ was Deaton and his sociopathic sister, and even then it was only to watch me for a solid ten minutes, the woman's intelligent eyes irritatingly calm as I hissed threats at them.

Nobody gave me any blood, so I was starving. And where the _fuck_ was Void?

My boredom grew by the hour, and I'd taken to pacing a hole in the floor when I was strong enough, and trying to sleep when I wasn't. The lack of blood was doing me in, I was growing weaker with each tick of the clock, and if I didn't feed soon, my body would begin to shut down completely.

It got to the point where I was fairly certain I was going to rot there like the vampires in that mother_fucking_ tomb in Mystic Falls, when suddenly the door was dragged open, a familiar and entirely welcome face appearing in the early-morning light.

Void stood in the doorway, one hand braced on the door, the other wrapped around the neck of a young man, no older than fifteen. "I believe you said something about children?" he asked in Stiles' voice, cocking his head to the side and smirking up a storm.

"You'd better not be teasing me you son of a bitch," I growled, and the boy tried to rip away from him when he noticed my fangs, but Void was strong, not letting go for a moment.

He stepped into the room, dragging the child with him and all but throwing him down to the ground at the barrier. "Break the line," he ordered the meal as I watched on, shamelessly salivating in anticipation.

"W-what?"

"You heard me," he snapped impatiently, a sentiment I could relate to. Confused beyond belief, the boy held out two violently shaking hands, breaking the line with a jerky movement and barely taking a breath before my fangs found their place in his neck.

He tried to scream, but his own blood flooded his throat, making the noise come out as gurgled grunts. I pressed my hand over his lips anyway, the action more muscle memory than anything.

I drank until no more blood came, the boy sucked dry.

His corpse hit the floor with a thud that echoed around the room, and I took a beat to savour the warmth and power flowing through my body, before raising my bloodied face, meeting Void's amused blackened eyes.

"What the fuck kind of time do you call this?" I demanded furiously, blood smeared lips curled back in a vicious snarl. "I've been rotting here for _days_."

"I happened to be rotting in _Eichen House_," he spat the name with revulsion.

The made me pause. "The nuthouse on the edge of town?" I asked in subtle surprise.

"Stiles checked himself in," he said, gaze hollow. "Seemed to think it would help."

"Hm," I hummed in half-interest.

"I came as soon as I could," he added as an afterthought, waving one hand disinterestedly, making me doubt the words.

"What do you need from me?" I asked instantly, knowing he didn't break me out out of the kindness of his heart.

"Funny you should ask," he smirked, and suddenly the dynamic duo were back, both ready to raise hell, cause mayhem and watch as the streets ran red with blood that we had spilled.

* * *

**A/N: Completely original chapter here. Hope you guys like it, it was a lot of fun to write. Send me a review and tell me what you thought – as always, I thrive off your words!**

**Also – in unrelated business – would you guys rather a (Harry Potter) Fred/OC or a Draco/OC from me sometime in the future? I'm working on both, but it's draining me – so I wanna know what you guys are more interested in reading so I can focus on just one. **

**If anyone's interested in maybe being a beta reader for the first chapter of this new Harry Potter one, let me know – I'd like to start collaborating with other authors on this site!**


	60. Sometimes

_Sometimes I don't wanna be better_

_Sometimes I can't be put back together_

_Sometimes I find it hard to believe_

_There's someone else who could be_

_Just as messed up as me_

Sometimes – Skillet

* * *

"Really, no car?" Void asked sourly as we wandered through the woods, making out way towards the school on a particularly cool afternoon.

"It would make things easier, wouldn't it?" I mused, stepping up on a fallen log and using it to propel myself up, catching an overhanging branch and swinging off of it, landing with catlike grace on the damp, earthy ground. "So are you going to tell me the reason behind this little trip, or am I just meant to cluelessly stand there and look pretty?" I asked with a sneer.

"You do it so well," he sneered back, no amount of affection in the words that, if said by Stiles, would have sounded charming.

"You really just want a personal cheerleader, don't you?" I teased, turning around and walking backwards, keeping my eyes on his as we walked. "That's the real reason you keep me around."

Void looked contemplative for a long moment.

"More of a body guard," he mused, talking to himself more than me.

"Like you need it," I scoffed. Void was stronger than _me_, and he was a better fighter than me too. The only way I could protect him better was with scathing comments or if assailants got close enough for me to bite – otherwise he was his own best line of defence.

"Okay, then it's more of a scare tactic," he allowed as we approached the tree line, the school looming in the late afternoon sun.

"Because I'm terrifying," it wasn't a question – I knew I could be _quite _scary without even really trying. I was a freaky chick, soul or no soul – okay, so slightly more with no soul. It helped that I dressed like a punk-rock-witch-doctor, eyes surrounded by thick black and lips the colour of the blood I so desperately craved. My clothes were leather, and my skin frighteningly pale, eyes dark and piercing green. My hair uncared for, flowing down my back to messy knots with dirt and blood caked on my hands and gathered under my nails.

I practically screamed _creepy_: _do not approach_.

I had a feeling that was exactly what Void was going for.

I was the Bellatrix to his Voldemort – a comparison I was wary to make, remembering when Stiles got me to read those bloody books. I'd enjoyed them with a soul, but without one they seemed pathetically pointless. It was an apt description though, I did have a sick kind of hero-worship for the dark kitsune, though I couldn't find it in my hollow chest to care.

"Was it part of the plan for someone to be here?" I asked as I grasped the shiny new chain to the front doors, yanking it down and snapping it like a toothpick. It pooled at our feet with a loud clink.

"I had considered the possibility," he admitted coldly, eyes on the path before us of shiny, slippery floors.

"It's that new history teacher," I told him, sniffing the air and tilting my head, listening idly to the wet thumping of his heart.

"Kira's father?"

"Correct."

He hummed in satisfaction, footsteps silent – such a contrast to Stiles' – as we made our way towards the classroom. Or, he did, while followed at his heels, really just along for the ride.

I had a brief stab of doubt, wondering if I was doing the right thing for me. Was following the Nogitsune around like a lost puppy really the best use of my time? I could be having so much more fun.

As I thought this, Void glanced at me over his shoulder, the shadows under his eyes seeming to deepen as his gaze met mine – his eyes wonderfully dead, his stare hollow and dark, completely addictive.

He was just as fucked up as I was.

Maybe this _was_ my path to happiness after all.

The teacher was at his desk, distracted and senses so humanly dull that he didn't notice we were in the doorway until Void spoke. "Coming in on a Saturday?" he murmured, voice seeming so much louder than it really was in the all but empty room. "Now _that's_ dedication."

He moved his head, the gesture so faint nobody would have been able to catch it but me. In the next instant I was beside the older Japanese man, perched casually on the desk, one leather-clad leg crossed over the other, head tilted innocently, my gaze apathetic. He flinched violently at my sudden appearance, and I took back what I was thinking before.

This was a _lot_ of fun, and we'd barely even begun.

"Where's she hiding them?" Void asked him calmly, wandering further into the room while I glanced down at the chipped blood coloured paint on my nails, beginning to hum a chilling tune under my breath. The human glanced at me wearily, not quite sure which monster to give his attention to.

I knew some things, of course – I couldn't walk in completely blind, after all.

I knew that _Noshiko –_ Kira's kitsune mother – had several of her tails hidden at the school. I knew we needed them located, and I was keen to see one in the flesh for the first time.

"Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about," the history teacher said innocently, and I cackled, head tilted back as I laughed.

"The little knives," Void said tonelessly, needlessly 'jogging' his memory as he idly pulled books from the shelves. The man took a step forwards, whether to attack him or make for the door, I couldn't be sure, but either way my hand snapped out, pressing against his chest, shoving him back several inches with laughable ease. "The daggers?" the kitsune continued without pause, as though nothing had happened. "I know what they are...the physical representation of her tails." He dropped another book, it hit the ground with a thud. "However the hell that works."

"Maybe you'd like to do some reading on it," the brave man suggested coyly, making me giggle once more, the sound echoing off the walls, chilling and brash. "I could direct you to the section of Japanese myth in the library," he continued on as strongly as he could. I wondered whether he knew that I could not only smell his fear, but hear his heart beating in terror.

"No," Void shook his head with a wide smirk. "No, I'd like to talk to you." He slowly made his way through the desks, deliberately walking towards the front of the room where we were positioned. I leaned back on the desk, pushing some of the materials off and onto the floor, though I cared very little. "The older the tail, the stronger the Oni," the dark kitsune mumbled, voice rough and gravelly, just as I liked it. "I know there's one left. I know it's the strongest."

He made it up to where I was perched, stretched out on the teacher's desk like a lazy cat. His fingers danced up my thigh and over my waist as he crept forwards, and I was glad I was covered so he didn't notice the goosebumps that broke out on my skin in eager anticipation.

"Unfortunately I don't know what you're referring to."

"_Ugh_!" the frustrated grunt was spat from my lips as I begrudgingly heaved myself up so quickly that it had him flinching backwards slightly. Funny – vampires seemed to make him more nervous than dark kitsune. That pleased me greatly, though not enough to erase my irritation. "Quit playing dumb, it stopped being cute ages ago," the words were more of a whine, but I couldn't have cared less.

"I really don't-"

Quicker than the human could process, Void lifted the book on the desk and the fly trapped under it flew up and into the man's mouth, instantly choking him. I lit up in delight, clapping my hands together like I was a child watching a skit at the circus.

"You'll talk," the Nogitsune assured him. The teacher sank to his knees, hands gripping desperately at his throat. "They always talk."

The sounds of my manic laughter bounced around the otherwise still room.

Let the fun begin.

* * *

"I could have made him squeal," I whined for the third time, hurrying along after Void, the fox in the boy's body walking quickly and surely, not an ounce of hesitation in his stride.

"Yes, yes," he tutted impatiently, eyes focused ahead, not giving me the attention I would deny that I craved. "Now shut up and walk."

I huffed but fell silent, picking up my speed and leading the way, this time knowing exactly where we were heading. "This is so naughty," I piped up after a long few minutes of nothing but quiet, a smirk sitting comfortably on my lips. "I love it."

"I thought you would."

"Why don't we make it even naughtier and give them a real show?" I asked hopefully as we turned into the Stilinski driveway, heading for the door in the slowly fading sunlight. I let my hand creep over his chest, my nails scraping against the cotton of his shirt.

"Not now, Juliet," he said scathingly, pushing me off with ease, though I wasn't so easily deterred. He slid the key into the lock as I pressed my face into his neck, inhaling his rotting scent with a small wince, but powered through it and followed him into the dark, empty house. He pushed me off again, and with a dramatic pout I decided to give the fox his space, instead creeping further into the familiar dwelling and making a beeline for the stairs.

Stiles' door swung open and hit the wall with a crack.

Void smelt like death and chaos, an intoxicating scent not unlike my own.

Stiles smelt like chocolate and mint, and his room reeked of his scent. It clung to every corner of the room, flooding my senses, and I felt an echo of a pang before all semblance of emotion was wiped from my body, replaced instead by an instinctive repulsion, the mere thought of the human making me angry and bitter.

"How about that show?" I asked playfully, glancing over at Void and raising my eyebrows invitingly.

He completely ignored me, moving further into the room, trailing his fingers over the gadgets sitting on the desk before making his way to the bed, sitting on the bed in a silent move, staring blankly out at the room, not a single emotion showing in his dead eyes.

I gave an impatient huff, walking over to the chair sitting by the bed and dropping into it, throwing my legs over the side and tipping my head back, staring up at the white ceiling in boredom.

Void suddenly let out a something that sounded dangerously close to a purr, and I tilted my head, watching him as he glanced up at a small camera in the top left corner of the room, the light on the side blinking rhythmically.

"They're watching, aren't they?" I asked eagerly, narrowing my eyes at the lens, a restless energy in my gaze as a wicked smirk spread across my lips, the expression as easy to form as it was to breathe. Void didn't answer verbally, instead lifting his hand and slowly wiggling his fingers at the camera, tilting his head and remaining eerily silent.

A peal of uncontrollable laughter left my lips, my head thrown back as I struggled to rein in my amusement, my ruby red lips pulled back to expose pointed fangs.

"I still say we give them a show they won't soon forget," I murmured once I'd calmed down, the smirk stubbornly sticking to my face.

"Patience, you harlot," he barked, suddenly sliding to his feet in a smooth, graceful move. I rolled my eyes, lips twitching as I reclined further in my seat, kicking my shoes against the wall as I waited for him to finally do what he'd been wanting to do since we got here. He moved out of view of the camera, wandering over to the chess board sitting on the desk, little sticky notes attached to each piece, declaring them the local members of the supernatural.

"What's the plan, you glorified ghost?" I asked in response, watching him closely from where I was lazily draped, eyes following the movement as he started shifting the pieces around the board.

"I'm sending a message," he murmured back distractedly, back turned to me as he fiddled with the board.

I grunted, reluctantly forcing myself to my feet and slipping silently across the room, appearing at the Nogitsune's side, one hand curling around his shoulder possessively, though he seemed to barely notice.

"You're putting Derek into checkmate?" I asked through a smirk. "That's quite the threat, you ancient-and-powerful-trickster-spirit," I mocked, but he didn't spare even a beat to send me a glare, which was oddly disappointing. All I wanted was to stir a reaction, was that too much to _fucking_ ask for?

"From what I can tell, their little _pack_," he spat the word with absolute disdain, "isn't nearly as stupid as they look. I know they'll eventually figure out what I want them to, and they'll get themselves into place and be none the wiser."

"You're an evil genius, you are," I commented flatly, my tone wholly conveying how unimpressed I was.

He looked over his shoulder long enough to shoot me a glare that made me shiver with dark anticipation, and I smirked back, turning my attention back to the board when he did. "We have somewhere to be," he said quietly once he was finished toying with the chess pieces, stepping back slightly to assess his work. "Besides, they'll be arriving soon, and it's best if we're not here when they do."

"As you wish, master," I retorted slyly, brushing past him deliberately, making his dark eyes narrow at my teasing. "So," I began as we stepped out into the cool afternoon air, heading away from the house quicker than humans could track. "Where exactly, pray tell, are we leading them?"

"To the loft," he responded blankly, slowing to a regular walk, though keeping to the edge of town, where we weren't likely to run into trouble. "This is where things are _really_ going to start getting fun."

"Will there be blood spilt?" I asked with a hopeful pout.

"That, little one, is entirely dependant on _you._"

I wasn't sure I liked the nickname, or the condescending way it was spat, but I decided to go with it, not in the mood to bicker with a trickster spirit. I supposed it was a valid one, he _was _several centuries my senior.

I liked what he was implying, and the question had to be asked – now that I had the chance, who was I going to take a bite out of first?

* * *

"They're going to have a plan, you know," I told Void, reclined in a chair in the loft, one leg dangling off the side as I leaned back, alternating between glancing at him and the (so far) silent doorway.

"That's what I'm counting on."

I hummed interestedly, observing him closely. He was so still, so lifeless, he could have been a vampire. "Why am I here?" I asked, eyes narrowed, head tilted as I waited. "Surely it can't be protection."

"I told you," he said impatiently. "You can be quite scary when you put your mind to it. Your presence will throw them off – intimidate them. Besides, you're _fast_, and that could come in handy; especially for what I have in store."

I paused, realising something I hadn't considered. "The Oni will be coming after us tonight, won't they?" I asked, though I already knew. Void said nothing, a cold, lazy smirk dripping across his features as he shot me a superior look. So _that _was the plan. "You really know how to romance a girl, huh?" I murmured back sarcastically, but he didn't so much as twitch, keeping his eyes on the setting sun. Footsteps echoed through the halls outside the loft, and my spine stiffened, my whole body snapping to attention. "Ooh," I breathed in excited anticipation. "The red coats are coming," I sang the words, gleeful in my expectation.

Void didn't move a muscle until the door was sliding open, a familiar face appearing in the gap, a wary, devastated look on his lined face.

Void turned, finally looking away from the setting sun and meeting his host's father's eyes. "Hi dad," and _shit_ he was good. He even sounded convincingly vulnerable, and I bit my lip to stifle an amused chuckle.

John hadn't noticed me yet, his full attention on what was left of his son. I watched giddily as the sheriff pulled out a pair of handcuffs, the metal glinting in the fading sunlight.

"You wanna handcuff me?" he asked meekly.

"If my son is still here," the man began, slowly walking further into the room, hesitantly approaching the Nogitsune. "If there's still a part of him standing here in front of me, then he'll put these on willingly, and he'll come with me, because he knows I'm here to protect him – from himself, and from others."

Void held out his hands, ducking his head as he allowed himself to be cuffed.

Laughter tickled my insides, like a pressure at my chest, desperately screaming to be released. I curled my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms as I held my breath, trying as hard as I could to keep from laughing.

Void looked up, every ounce of Stiles wiped from his face, and I broke.

I trilled with giggles, throwing my head back as the chilling sound filled the room. I sounded manic and deranged even to myself, but I couldn't stop, the situation so damn hilarious that I couldn't find it in me to try and smother the sound. I opened my eyes, my dark ones meeting the Sheriff's, who had only just noticed me, his wary gaze flickering between his son and I, not quite sure what to make of us.

I grinned at him toothily, the expression all venom and no affection.

He understood then.

"You're not my son."

Void snapped the handcuffs with a flick of his wrists, the metal clinking on the floor, the sound echoing around the empty room. Heartbeats met my ears a moment before the pack strode into the room, serious expressions on their faces, chins tilted up bravely.

I laughed again, though the sound was quieter this time. Derek's eyes slid across to me, and there was a spark of something in his gaze before it was covered with a glare.

Allison was the first to act, aiming a taser at the calm looking Void, who caught the end with ease, snapping the wires like they were made of paper.

Derek acted next, lunging for the fox, only to be quickly and efficiently put down. I saw Argent reaching into his pocket, and knew what was coming before I saw any hint of the weapon.

In the next instant I was in front of Void, head tilted innocently, barrel of a gun aimed between my eyes. "Do it," I goaded the hunter enthusiastically, my eyes alight with eager anticipation and dark amusement. "Go on," I sneered in his direction, wagging my eyebrows playfully, vaguely reminded of the night Void had all but reached inside me and flicked my humanity switch. "_Do it._"

Without further fanfare he pulled the trigger a split second after he re-aimed, the bullet slipping through the skin of my shoulder, and for a moment I felt nothing but the familiar ache of a gunshot, but then I felt the vervain as it trickled through my insides like acid. I dropped into a crouch, bracing myself on the ground and taking a beat to process the pain before I let another giggle escape my lips.

"Big-bad hunter can point a gun and shoot," I sang condescendingly, staring up at him with a manic grin, eyes glinting with dangerous mischief. "How brave."

I stayed where I was, however, crouched on the ground, one hand braced over my bleeding, agonising wound, refusing to show a hint of weakness. Argent adjusted his aim so the barrel of the gun was once more pointing at Void's skull. The Sheriff was quick to jump in, heart leaping in his chest. I licked my lips at the sound of it.

"Argent, listen to me," John said quietly, his tone forcibly calm. "Don't do this."

"Why not? I've done it before."

"Werewolves, berserkers, vampires," he glanced down at me, disgust on his face as clear as day, something like a sneer curling at his lips. "I could easily add a Nogitsune to the list." Argent didn't like that, and a beat passed before the sheriff himself was lifting a gun, taking off the safety and aiming it threateningly at the hunter.

"Ooh," I gasped like I was at a play, watching a plot twist unfold in front of me.

Nobody paid me an ounce of attention, making me pout.

"You're not gonna shoot my son," the sheriff told the hunter, and I used the distraction as an opportunity to dig around in my wound, fishing out the bullet still lodged in my flesh and yanking it out with a silent hiss, dropping it to the floor and rolling my shoulder before sliding to my feet and taking my place beside Void, ready to jump in if I needed to.

"You said it yourself, sheriff," Argent said darkly. "That's not your son."

"Put it down," the unspoken threat was clear. "Put. It. Down."

Void shifted uneasily, slipping into Stiles's physicality like he was slipping on a pair of shoes. "Dad, he's gonna shoot me," he said shakily, tears appearing in his eyes. I giggled amusedly, watching everything eagerly, soaking up the strife, wondering how much longer it was best to wait before I sank my teeth into a human's neck. "He's gonna kill me, dad."

"Put it down."

"Come on, do it."

"PUT THE GUN DOWN!"

"COME ON! SHOOT ME!"

Father and son's screams battled each others, and I couldn't resist adding my own creepy laughter to the mix, one hand curled possessively around Void's arm, leaning forwards, just waiting for the hunter to pull the trigger.

As they fought for control and I basked in the chaos being created, I realised the room had suddenly gone dark, shadows appearing where there had only just been light. Allison's heartbeat picked up, and the wet sound made me turn my head, eyes alight with mischief as I met hers, an eager hunger in mine that briefly made her eyes widen.

"Stop!" she shouted suddenly, panic in her dark gaze. "_Stop it_! This is what he wants! This is exactly what they _both_ want!"

"Not _exactly_," Void corrected. "There'd be much more blood if Juliet had her way," he mentioned, and I grinned wickedly, fangs on full display. "And I was kind of hoping Scott would be here." He paused, glancing around the room. "But I'm glad you all have your guns out – but you're not here to kill me." He turned around, and I shifted to the side, glancing over his shoulder at the bay of windows were the shapes of four distinct Oni appeared in the darkness, their cloaks as dark as the shadows surrounding them. "You're here to protect me."

The Oni attacked in a swoop of shade, swords glinting in the moonlight pouring in through the frosted windows. The loud sound of gunfire filled the space, the bangs echoing off the walls and making my sensitive ears ring.

Oni dashed around our protectors, but we'd chosen well, and they had a difficult time getting by.

"Now that everyone is sufficiently distracted," Void said in my ear, his cool breath tickling my skin. "I have somewhere to be."

I figured that was my cue and took the initiative to sweep an arm around his angular, familiar body and disappeared from the room quicker than any human or werewolf could see. The Oni noticed us move, and much to my annoyance, they attempted to follow us. I could feel their presence licking at my neck, the creatures desperately trying to stay on me – but it wasn't that hard to shake them.

I sped up, my feet only just barely touching the hard ground, not stopping until I'd gotten Void a good block away from the loft, hidden behind the looming wall of an old gas station and out of sight of the anxious Oni.

"Now," I began quietly, dropping his weight from my side, leaving him to slink to the ground like a giant, evil fox. "Where do you need to be?"

"_We,_" he corrected blithely, "have a date over at Eichen House."

"Is that so?" I asked rhetorically through a sneer. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but Eichen House is the permanent residence of the staff." For a long moment he looked frustrated, and I realised with glee that he didn't know what I was saying. "I can't get in without an invitation, you dolt."

He didn't look like he appreciated the name calling, but was too distracted by the kink in his master plan to punish me for it.

"I have to go," he said but didn't move.

"I'll be awaiting your orders, captain," I chirped sardonically, the expression bitter on my lips.

He hesitated, eyes calculating. "Actually, there's something you can do for me right now..."

I tilted my head, cursing my inherent curiosity.

"You can use your snazzy little parlour trick to help break the beta out of the hospital."

Though I wasn't sure why this was necessary, it sounded fun – and I was nothing if not eager for fun. "But Void," I said with a fake gasp, reaching forwards to press my palm to his vessel's clavicle. "That's against the rules."

He smirked wickedly, and hunger reared it's beautiful head from deep within my gut. "Haven't you figured it out yet, Juliet?" he asked slowly. "There _are_ no rules."

* * *

I was to wait until the perfect moment to arrive. Void had said I'd know it when it came. He had every moment planned, every move already plotted within that brilliant head of his.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, of course – until I got a call from a distressed sounding teen wolf. I almost didn't answer, peering down at the name splayed across the screen with unrestrained disdain.

"You've reached Juliet's Wolf Spaying Clinic," I finally picked up the call, keeping my tone light, one leg kicked up on the table opposite me, the sounds of the lottery numbers being called out on the screen behind the counter of this town's sorry excuse for a casino. It was one storey, and didn't even have a happy-hour.

The guy behind the bar shot me a bewildered look, but I didn't respond, merely jerking my head for another refill.

"_Juliet_," Scott's voice answered, sounding more shaky than confident as he completely ignored my unorthodox greeting. "_We need your help_."

"Is that so?" I asked, the boredom obvious in my tone. I lifted my full glass, tossing back the shot like it was water, slamming it back onto the bar and ordering another.

"_I know you're not...yourself right now,_" he hesitated, stumbling over the words awkwardly, making me chortle with unrestrained amusement. "_But you need to come to my house and you need to do it now_."

"Why's that, teen wolf?" the nickname wasn't said with affection, but rather a sour contempt at the ordering tone he took with me.

"_I can't explain over the phone,_" he said, sounding out of breath, and I briefly wondered whether or not this was a trap. "_Please, put aside whatever's going on with you right now, and come help. It's for _Stiles."

I wanted to say no, more out of principle than anything else, but remembered Void's parting words. I'd know the signal when I saw it.

This was it; I was being invited across enemy lines – as an honoured guest, nonetheless.

"Well," I said condescendingly as I dropped my feet to the floor, ignoring the sound of the slot machines whirring in the background, "if it's for Stiles, then I'll be right there."

With a look in the bartender's eyes my tab was erased, and I slinked from the casino, stepping out into the cool autumn air, enjoying the blast of it across my face. The run to Scott's would have only taken about two minutes tops, but I decided to walk it at a slightly faster pace, stretching it out to five.

I could smell Void's decaying scent from outside the large two-storey house, and I swallowed as I knocked on the door. It was pulled open within moments, and I didn't so much as blink at Scott, stepping passed him immediately, our arms brushing – burning hot against freezing cold.

Nothing was said as I entered the house, and I instantly noticed Lydia, Deaton and Melissa standing off to the side, their eyes narrowing suspiciously in my direction, like I was a bomb just waiting to explode and take them all with me.

I followed the scent through to the next room, meeting Void's eyes across the space. The familiar dead pools were watering slightly, but there was a comforting flatness in them that assured me everything was going exactly according to plan. "Hi honey," I greeted him sarcastically, my boots clicking against the wood floor and my ruby red lips glistening in the dim light. "I like the bondage look on you," the words were purred, and I felt more than saw the watching group cringe in thinly veiled disgust.

"Can we speak with you, Juliet?" Deaton asked firmly, gesturing pointedly to the door leading through to the kitchen.

"Hm," I hummed, the smirk appearing on my lips naturally as I swaggered over to them. "Are you going to tie me up too?" I questioned slyly, a cruel and teasing glint in my eyes.

They said nothing, though Melissa's eyes looked slightly glassy as she assessed me. I purred again, snapping my jaws together suddenly, making her flinch ever so slightly and filling me with a sick pleasure.

"Why am I here, gang?" I asked the second we'd all filed into the kitchen, glancing over my shoulder to peer back out at Void, whose honey eyes were locked onto the doorway, watching everything with a glint of intelligence and superiority.

"We read something," Scott – the elected leader – began. "The only way to get rid of the Nogitsune is to change the body of the host."

I was silent for a long moment, taking the time to creep across the tiles and across to the sink, letting my nails trail over the counters with a sharp scraping sound. It was obvious what they wanted, how couldn't it have been? The question was, how did Void want me to respond?

They took my silence as confusion, and Lydia – ever the know-it-all – was quick to speak up. "To change Stiles, he needs to be turned," she told me quickly, a frown marring her pretty features.

I tilted my head, peering out the window for a beat before turning back to face the group. "Why me?" I asked curiously, crossing my arms over my chest and tapping my finger against the pearly expanse of my arm. "Surely you could do it yourself, _alpha_," I spat the word with scorn, and was pleased to see Scott flinch ever so slightly.

"Because," he began once he'd recovered, "Stiles doesn't want to be a werewolf."

He paused, and I got the feeling it was more for dramatic effect than anything else.

"He wants to be a vampire."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter has a lot of details in it that will come to pass later on. Also, for those of you interested, I've decided to _definitely continue_ with the next few seasons of Teen Wolf. I've just started season 4 now, so things are underway – and it will all be posted under this story.**

**Send me a review or message and let me know your thoughts about this chapter _and_ where you think the story is going to go! I love you x**


	61. Wasteland

_Have I lost my mind?_

_Is this paradise?_

_Or a darker side?_

_Candy coated lips_

_You're the sweetest kiss_

_But a bad trip_

_Twisted fantasy_

_In your ecstasy_

_You're no good for me_

_Just behind the wall_

_It's not a dream at all_

_It's a free fall_

Wasteland – Against The Current

* * *

Glee filled me for one heart-wrenching moment as I was thrown back to only a small number of weeks ago. I stamped out the embers of joy within myself, snarling at the emotion in warning before it disappeared all together, having only been an echo of the real thing in the first place.

I had to consider my response carefully, seeing a fork in the road before me and wondering which path to take.

"Look," Scott began, taking a step forwards that made me flash my barred teeth at him, clearly telling him to _back the fuck up._ He held out his hands placatingly, as though I was a wild animal he was trying to domesticate. "I know your 'humanity switch' is turned off right now," he said the words without the weight that should have been behind them, as though he was mentioning that I'd simply dyed my hair. "But the real Jules is still in there _somewhere – _she has to be."

"Well she's not," the words were dripping with condescension. "You really don't _get it_, do you?"

"Turning it back on is a lot harder than turning it off, Scott," Deaton warned him as though I wasn't even there. "Perhaps this is a waste of our time."

"For your sake," I interjected. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me a waste of time." I turned back to the alpha, tilting my head as I considered him. "Are you really asking this because you know it's what Stiles would want, or are you doing it because there's lower chance it'll kill him? We all know how unreliable wolf bites can be," I tutted like a teacher lecturing to her class. Scott opened his mouth to answer, and though I was genuinely curious, I didn't allow him to speak. "It doesn't matter," I interrupted sharply, clicking my tongue and leaning my weight back against the counter behind me. "Either way, I'm not going to turn him."

Lydia looked furious, while Scott and Deaton remained calm, eyeing me with matching calculated gazes.

"So you're just not going to do anything?" she demanded, and for a split second I was thankful she hadn't grown into her abilities yet – a true Banshee attack stung like a bitch. "You're just going to let that _thing _use him like a puppet?"

I pretended to think about it, pressing my forefinger to the dimple in my chin. "Yes."

She looked about ready to scream, and I shifted my weight to the balls of my feet, preparing to defend myself in the event of an attack – no matter how pathetically weak it would have been.

"Jules," Scott spoke quietly while Deaton laid a hand on Lydia's shoulder, silently telling her to calm down before she wound me up – a wise move from the enigmatic emissary. I turned my attention to the teen wolf, my head tilting as my green gaze fixated on his face, taking in his puppy-dog eyes, wishing once again that my compulsion worked on wolves. "You turned it off because you couldn't handle seeing Stiles possessed, right?"

I snarled, practically spitting venom at the boy, who did no more than blink in my direction calmly. "Don't pretend to know a _thing _about me, little boy," I growled warningly, and though his heart sped up a tad, he otherwise gave no reaction.

"We _will_ find a way to bring him back," Scott told me, sounding so sure of himself that for a brief second even _I _believed him. "And when we do, do you think he'll want to see you like this?" I said nothing, keeping my eyes locked onto his face, narrowing with thoughtful irritation. "The Nogitsune doesn't care about you, Jules," he added, and I couldn't help my flinch, though I masked it by pretending to lean away. "It's using you. But Stiles – Stiles _loves _you. More than anything."

There was a low chuckling from the other room. The sound was muffled by the tape covering Void's mouth, but it was unmistakeable. It was also enough to jolt me out of my self-pity and back to the right path.

The giggle that escaped my lips was beautifully unhinged, and it made the group of do-gooders wince. "That was cute," I sneered. "But it'll take a lot more than that to make me waver." I paused, cocking my head inquisitively. "What's to stop me from taking him and running?" I asked, genuinely curious. "I'm faster than all of you combined. It wouldn't be difficult."

"You won't," it was Lydia that spoke that time, and though I wanted to ask why she thought so, I refrained from doing so.

"Listen," I said flatly, my gaze clearly less than impressed. "The only way you're getting _my_ blood down _his_ throat, is with some kinky restraints and a hell of a lot of power-of-will." Reaching my hands back up so they were in view, I cracked my knuckles, the harsh sound echoing around the small kitchen. "No takers?"

They remained silent.

"Then I'll see you again soon," I smirked, the expression making it obvious that I knew something they didn't, and with a gust of wind and a blink of their eyes, I was gone.

* * *

_Oak Creek._

That was all the message said, but it was more than enough. I had concerns about not getting inside the creepy, looming building that was Eichen House and consequently being stuck pacing the barrier like a tiger in a cage. But I should have known Void was too smart to let that happen.

I broke the lock on the fence and wandered up to the front door, unsure what my purpose for being there was. I was getting real sick of keeping my hands clean; I decided to give Void until sunrise to show me why siding with him was a good idea – otherwise I was ditching this woeful town and it's pathetic residents.

I knocked three times in quick succession, the sound echoing beyond the door, bouncing off the walls all around me.

I heard no heartbeat on the other side of the door, so I was surprised when it was pulled open a moment later, revealing Void standing with his head cocked, eyeing me with exhausted, bloodshot eyes.

I moved to take a step, only to pause when I realised I wouldn't have been able to get in.

Void smirked, and I longed to taste the expression for myself. "Come in, Juliet," he ordered quickly, almost innocently, stepping back to allow me room to slide into the lobby of the building.

Curiosity bubbling within me, I hesitantly inched forwards, pressing my fingers into the place where the barrier should have been, only for them to pass straight into the room.

"What did you do?" I asked gleefully, taking a step inside, feeling absolutely no resistance. I breathed in, only to cringe at the foul stench that seemed to be stained on the walls.

"I killed the owner," he said simply, like we were discussing the weather.

The pout that appeared on my lips made him grunt. "Without me?" I asked sorrowfully, blinking my wide green eyes up at him.

"Don't pout," he snapped, letting the door bang shut behind him as he led me deeper into the dark, still rooms of the nuthouse. "It's not becoming for one your age."

"You're one to talk," I muttered back, shooting a grimace at the back of his head, wondering silently when the fun would start. "There're still people here," I added, cocking my head as I listened to the faint beating of hearts from floors above us. The floor we were on was completely empty, but the building itself wasn't.

"I didn't kill _everyone_," he sounded like he was correcting a toddler on the alphabet – condescending and impatient. "Just the necessary parties. Nobody will know he's gone for weeks."

"You aren't worried they'll catch us?" I questioned as he led me through a door that led to a large, pitch black staircase.

He said nothing, only taking a beat to peer back at me over his shoulder, a beautiful mischievous smirk sitting comfortably on his lips.

"Where's your heartbeat?" I asked suddenly, once more remembering the absence of the rhythmic sound. "Did you kill him?" Even I couldn't have helped the note of accusation and seething rage in my tone.

Void waved off my hiss with a lazy gesture, not even glancing back at me. "The boy and I have separated," he informed me, like it was an afterthought, and not vital information that I needed to know. "We are now two separate entities entirely. I am merely using his face for convenience sake."

"Is that so?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the familiar shoulders before sliding my gaze over the stone walls of the staircase he was leading me down. I wondered if he was going to try and kill me; that would certainly be an exciting change of pace. "So where is he now?" It was obvious who I was referring to.

"Planning our destruction, no doubt," he told me flippantly, coming to a stop outside a door and finally turning to face me. The honey brown of Stiles' eyes was gone, pitch black replacing it, dead in a way I'd only seen twice before; on a corpse and in the mirror. "Here's a riddle for you," he began, leaning forward, leering at me in a way that made me preen. "What can sense death, has red hair _and _an annoying moral compass?"

He didn't wait for me to answer, instead pushing open the door, revealing Lydia Martin spread out on the cold, damp floor, her skin ashen and pale.

"Actually," I began bitterly. "It's strawberry-blonde."

Void was silent for a beat. "What's with the tone?" he asked snidely. "From what I've gathered, this exact scenario is your greatest fantasy."

"What? Having a banshee knocked out on the floor of an asylum?"

He tutted impatiently, cracking his neck almost as an afterthought. "Having _Lydia Martin _in a broken heap at your feet," he corrected sharply, sneering across at me, our eyes meeting through the shadows. "It's no secret you hate her. Especially now."

I was silent, quietly contemplating his words. It was true, there was a time I would have loved to have Stiles' dream-girl, little miss _perfect_, at my mercy. It should have been even more so now that I was soulless – but I realised I was trying to force the pleasure. Instead I just felt a flat detachment.

I'd forgotten the price of the switch. I might not have been able to feel the bad things, but that meant I couldn't fully enjoy the good things either.

I only felt numb.

"The correct response to such a thoughtful gift is usually 'thank you'," he muttered snidely, cocking his head in Lydia's direction and watching her with black eyes.

"I would," I murmured, the sound slightly bitter, "but I get the feeling this wasn't a gift for me so much as it was a strategic move within this dangerous game of chess we're playing."

"It isn't chess," he snapped through a sneer, not taking his eyes off the strawberry blonde on the ground.

"What is it then?"

He didn't answer.

"She's waking," I murmured after a long minute of tense silence, focused on the wet pumps of her sleepy heart, idly wondering what banshee blood was like – would it be nicer than werewolf? It certainly couldn't be better than human, that was for sure.

"You can't eat her," Void said flatly, hands balled into tight fists at his own words. "I need her. For now."

"I didn't hear you say 'never'," I smirked gleefully, a cold eagerness spearing through my gut. Maybe I'd get to find out just how her blood ranked on the board.

"Leave me," he hissed abruptly, tossing a hand up in a dismissive gesture that made me growl.

"But-" I began to protest, endlessly curious about his plans for the slowly waking banshee and not wanting to be left out.

"Now," he snapped, finally turning to look at me, a furious snarl on his gorgeous but stolen face.

I grit my teeth, anger rearing it's head in my stomach and my hands curling into irritated fists at my sides. I stopped myself from biting out a sour 'fine', turning instantly on my heel and leaving the damp corridor, my footsteps echoing on the concrete as I moved out of sight, heading for the exit. I stepped out into the morning air, hidden in the catacombs of the asylum.

* * *

By the time Void finally let me wander back in, I was bored, and most importantly, I was hungry.

"They're going to find me," Lydia was chanting, the words desperate and breathless as she gripped at the doors, shaking the metal as hard as she could – but it was no use.

I purred, making sure the sound was loud enough to reach the panicking banshee. She jumped, whirling around to stare up at me with wide green eyes, the colour much less pronounced than my own.

"Juliet," she gasped, wisely taking two very large steps back until she was once more pressed to the door, shaking hands gripping the metal bars. "You...you're-"

"Hm?" I hummed, glancing down at myself distractedly. My shirt was coated with blood, and as I licked my lips, I deduced that my face too was smeared with the delicious red substance. "Oh, yes," my words were murmured, light interest dripping in my tone. "I always was a rather messy eater."

She seemed to find her bearings, breaths slowly as she pulled herself together. "You can stop this," she hissed, glancing over her shoulder at out the barred door as though expecting Void to appear at any moment. "Let me go, right now, and this will stop."

She almost seemed confident I was going to do it; the _right thing_.

She also thought too highly of me.

"Why would I do that?" I asked with genuine curiosity, head tilting to the side as I observed her closely, eyes roaming her exhausted, shivering form. Idly I wondered again what her blood tasted like – I knew Void would disapprove, but I couldn't find it in me to care. "A demon of chaos, strife and pain wants _my_ help in bringing upon the destruction of all that I loathe?" there was practically a skip in my step as I descended the stairs separating us. "That sounds like one hell of a good time."

"All that you loathe?" she asked shakily, pressing herself against the gate as her heart began to pound within her chest.

"All of you, of course," I answered her simply, coming to a stop a few steps from the bottom, breathing in her scent and considering my options.

"This isn't you talking, Jules," she tried to get through to me as they all had. "This is your lack of humanity. It's controlling you. _He's_ controlling you. Can't you see that?" She was desperate now, grasping at straws in an attempt to plant the seed of doubt, make me question what I knew.

But I wasn't so easily swayed.

"Maybe I _like_ being controlled," I suggested sincerely, a wicked gleam in my eyes and a smirk flickering like flames at my lips.

She was scrambling for something to say. "But you don't like being told what to do!" she gasped, urgently trying to stop my descent. "You say that all the time! You _hate_ it! So what changed?"

Her heart was beating so fast, it was like a song to my ears and my gums ached with need. "Shut up for once, you insufferable child," I sneered, taking the final step closer, allowing my nose to part her thick hair, sniffing delicately at her throat.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked, and I detected the salty scent of tears as they began to drip down her rosy cheeks.

"Sh," I hushed her impatiently, drawn in by the pump of her blood. "Just a taste..."

"_Juliet_!"

I froze, the deadly tips of my fangs a mere hair away from sinking into the skin covering her lovely jugular. I groaned, pulling back with a pout and tossing my ratty hair over my shoulder, glaring up the staircase at Void, who had his arms crossed, face arranged into a frown of disapproval.

"Why do you always have to ruin all the fun?" I asked through a whine, knowing I wouldn't get a serious answer. He jerked his head, and with a quiet snarl I detached myself from the whimpering Lydia, climbing the stairs only to stop in the middle, collapsing ungracefully onto a cold, hard step, draping myself across it and letting my head tip back against the wall.

"They're going to find me," Lydia was whispering over and over with her eyes squeezed closed, a chant to keep herself sane.

"You think so?" Void asked, propping himself up on the top step, elbows rested on his knees. "I myself was kind of wondering what they're doing right now; what useless lead they're chasing. I wonder if maybe some of them have bigger problems to deal with right now. Are they really spending every minute looking for you? Or, are they waiting for nightfall? Focused on some hopeless gesture to pass the time..." he trailed off, his voice disappearing into nothing, leaving the spaceless hall feeling impossibly colder.

Her eyes opened, wide like a child's, and shining with tears. "What do you want?" she asked, gaze focused on Void.

"More."

"More what?"

"The trickster stories are all about food, Lydia," Void began, pushing himself to his feet and beginning to make his way down the staircase. I purred again, the sound contented as I watched him walk towards me, an eager smirk stretched across my lips. "The coyote, the raven, the fox. They're all _hungry_."

He paused at my step, glancing down at me briefly before returning his burning gaze to Lydia.

"I'm the same...I just crave something a little different."

I giggled hysterically, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls. I grasped playfully at his thighs as he past me, but he batted me off as if I were no more than an irritating insect.

"I eat what you feel...and I'm _insatiable._"

Everything was deathly silent, the air still and stale. Then I heard the sound of an engine from above us. "Void," I spoke quietly, not sure if he could hear what I could. He glanced over his shoulder at me, hesitating for a beat before nodding his head in the direction of the entrance to Oak Creek. "The plan?" I asked tightly, keeping my eyes focused on the fox, refusing to glance over at the teary banshee.

I could sense he was worried, I could see it in the way he was holding himself – filled with buried anxiety that he would die before admitting to. Nonetheless he glanced back at me, a somewhat wicked anticipatory smirk set on his sinful lips. "Raise hell."

My interest peaked, and I hummed lowly. "By any means necessary?" I hardly thought I had to ask, but I'd rather know for sure than be chewed out for murder later on.

"I want _pain_, I want _chaos_, and I want _strife_," he sneered quietly, eyes dangerous and dark. "Can you do it or not?"

I laughed, the sound not quite as carefree as I'd intended it to be. "I'd better get going then," I muttered impishly, my own eyes narrowed up at him in pleasure and excitement. "I've got some hell to raise."

I thought they hadn't gotten into the building yet, but I found out quickly that I was wrong.

"This way!" Scott called over his shoulder, jogging along in front of Stiles, who paused for a brief moment to catch him breath, disappearing around the corner without waiting for his best friend to catch up.

I pressed myself against the wall, my dark clothes hiding me within the shadows of the abandoned building. Stiles seemed to freeze, his heart speeding up from underneath his sternum. He winced, rubbing his chest as he looked up sharply, warm caramel eyes sliding over my hiding place.

He could sense me; I could tell.

I didn't dare move a muscle. I could tell he wasn't doing well. He looked sallow and gaunt, dark circles under his eyes that matched Void's. I could feel the distinct absence of emotion. It was like a lost limb – I could feel where it should be, but I couldn't move it. I wondered if it would be that way forever.

"Jules," he breathed suddenly, his eyes more alive with one flicker than Void's had been since I'd known him.

If I hadn't known better, I'd almost say I _missed_ him.

Disgust coated my insides, and I did what I do best and ran away. I was nothing more than a gust of wind blowing past his face, and I didn't hang around to see the reaction it got.

"When I looked at the game, I could see who I was actually playing," Kira's voice floated over to me as I approached the door. "You."

"Well, isn't this _lovely_?" I sneered, stepping from the shadows and watching with glee as every single weapon swung around to aim directly at me. I wasn't worried; I couldn't see any wood, so an attack would be no more than a slight inconvenience. "Mother against daughter," I pretended to sniff, wiping at the nonexistent tears under my eyes.

"Jules," Allison spoke, her voice strong and steady but her eyes pleading with me to see reason.

"_Jules_," I mocked childishly around my exposed fangs, scrunching my nose in her direction.

"What you're doing is wrong," the raven haired hunter said levelly, the tip of her shining silver arrow angled at my unbeating heart. "You know that."

"Do I?"

"You're my _friend_," she said imploringly, dark eyes just begging me to put the fangs away.

"Not anymore, _darling_," the word was dripping with condescension, my dark eyes glaring daggers across the courtyard at her, a silent but very real threat.

"Don't make me do this, Jules," Isaac spoke up suddenly, shifting so he was ever so slightly in front of Allison, flicking out his wrists and allowing his deadly sharp claws to slip into view, glinting dangerously in the moonlight.

I laughed, noticing with glee that Kira shivered at the sound. "Come now, Isaac," I sang through a devilish grin. "We must play nice." He seemed to relax slightly, believing that I may not have been there to start a fight. "So, who should I eat first; the swordsman or the archer?"

Isaac swung into motion with all the speed of the average wolf. It was more than easy to duck under his attack. I grasped his arm in two places twisting it behind him and making him cry out in pain. The giggled that escaped could never have been controlled, and it only got louder as I cracked the bone in half, making the mutt shout in pain.

"Heal that, dog-breath," I spat, watching him drop to the ground and hold his arm to his chest in agony. I was distracted, and heard the sound of the arrow being released a moment too late. The arrow pierced my shoulder and I flinched, reaching around to grasp it and yank it unceremoniously from the muscle, blood pouring out after it. "That was rude," I commented through a sneer, letting the arrow drop harmlessly to the concrete.

She cocked another one as Kira slid her sword from it's sheath. I cracked my neck in preparation, stretching my fingers as I readied myself for a fight.

I wondered what a kitsune's blood tasted like.

Kira's mother gasped from where she stood, a sound that distracted us all. We all turned to see her opening her dainty hand to reveal a small puff of black smoke evaporating into the cool night air.

"Mom!" Kira murmured worriedly, no longer focused on running me through with her blade.

"What is that?" Isaac added through a snarl, struggling to get to his knees as his bone slowly began to heal. "What does it mean?"

"It means there's been a change in ownership."

The voice was definitely very welcome. I cackled with delight, standing between the group in one breath, only to appear beside Void in the next, turning to look over my shoulder giddily at the Oni, who were deathly still and silent from behind their masks.

"Now they belong to me."

I wasn't sure who moved first, but within the span of probably three seconds, blade was meeting blade in an ear-aching clash. The scent of blood filled the courtyard, making me feel intoxicated and fired up as I leapt into action.

Isaac ran for me – apparently still holding a grudge for breaking his arm or whatever – and this time he wasn't so easily stopped. He anticipated my sidestep, lunging one way only to snap the other way, grasping me as I slid around him.

His hand wrapped around my throat, his sharp animalistic claws digging into my skin, and I grimaced as blood dribbled down past my collar.

I lifted my knee, slamming it into his crotch and forcing him to leap back from me, gripping himself with a pained groan. Two punches to the face wasn't enough to get him off my back, but just as he was about to respond and make things interesting, an Oni appeared between us, sufficiently distracting the bastard and meaning I had to turn my attention elsewhere.

Not wanting to be stuck doing nothing, I instantly found somebody new to harass. Kira was grunting from effort as she struggled to hold off the Oni's attacks. She was distracted, and I was hungry – not a good combination.

"Watch your back, little girl," I jeered in her ear, and she flew around, sword slicing through the air with a ring. I ducked under the weapon, darting back up once it was safe to and easily slipping my fangs into her arm, biting all the way through her leather jacket to do so.

Her blood was electric, and I found myself disappointed when she ran me through with the katana. I hissed with agony, releasing her arm, her blood dripping down my chin.

"You little bitch," I snarled, struggling to breathe with the bloody weapon wedged through my still, dead heart. She looked pained and slightly ill, clearly thinking she'd just killed me. I sucked in a lungful of air that only really filled them with my own blood, but I cared little, reaching down and wrapping both my hands around the blade, squeezing as I slowly and painfully began to tear the katana out of my chest.

Kira watched in morbid fascination as I pulled it inch by torturous inch from my heart, the blade cutting into my palms, rivers of blood flowing down my chest. After a long, drawn out moment, the katana dropped to the ground. I took the surprise-filled pause to crack my neck again before slamming my fist into the little girl's face, hearing the bone crunch under my knuckles.

She fell back in shock, and I grinned, just about to slam it into her again when the ground seemed to shake. Briefly wondering if we were really having a _fucking earthquake_ right _fucking now_ of all times, I spun around just in time to watch as one of the Oni stabbed a sword right through Allison, the tip appearing clear as day on the other side of her body.

I froze – we all did.

The scent of the hunter's blood filled the courtyard, and though it was one-hundred percent human and should have made me hungry, I felt nothing but repulsed. Bile rose up my throat, but I stubbornly swallowed it down, staring at the scene with dark, hardened eyes.

I didn't feel anything. Why didn't I _feel _anything?

This was wrong. It was all so _wrong_.

"Time to go," Stiles' voice said from behind me, and I reached out blindly, searching for his hand; searching for the comfort only he could give.

Instead cold, hard fingers wrapped around my wrist, harshly yanking me backwards and away from the tragic scene.

"Juliet," Voice hissed, and I realised that it had been him all along. I felt a laugh bubble up my throat, but it was more hysterical than anything else, and to my horror it could almost be misconstrued as a sob. I didn't quite feel disappointment, instead reality came rushing back and that familiar, blissful numbness filled me to the brim.

Suddenly I was completely and utterly fine. I watched as Scott caught Allison in his arms, but I couldn't stay to watch, Void was impatiently tugging me from the scene, yanking me back into the shadows – where we both belonged.

* * *

**A/N: Hello beautiful people, I just wanted to let you know that I'm working on season 4 as we speak, but I'd still love to have your input about which direction you think the next season should take. Please send me a review or message and let me know your thoughts and theories – they help shape my plot :)**

**On another note, just wanted to give a birthday shoutout to "nicolecantwrite" - it was your review that made me decide to update today. Thanks for marathoning my story, I'm honoured, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a very happy birthday :) xx **


	62. The Last Time

_This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong,_

_This is the last time I say it's been you all along,_

_This is the last time I let you in my door,_

_This is the last time, I won't hurt you anymore._

The Last Time – Taylor Swift

* * *

"The hospital?" I asked with clear disdain, eyeing the building we were approaching with contempt. "What business could we _possibly_ have here?"

"I have a matter to attend to with your favourite nurse," he sneered as he stepped up onto the curb, heading for the entrance. My steps didn't falter, and I considered what he was saying.

"Are you going to kill her?" I asked slowly as I followed him into the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Does it matter?"

I shrugged indifferently, "I suppose not."

An orderly walked in our path, head buried in a medical chart, and I shoved him roughly to the side, watching with pleasure as his head cracked against the wall with a loud crunch. "And you complain you never get to have any fun," Void mocked me, a smirk set like stone on his lips.

I wound myself around him, pressing my own smirking lips to his neck and nibbling teasingly at his cold skin. He pushed me off a moment later, disinterested by the lust-driven move.

"Hi there," he said innocently, coming to a stop at the front desk where a nurse stood, distracted by the files in front of him. I leaned over the counter, pushing my cleavage up with a matching expression of innocence splayed across my face. "Could you page Melissa McCall for me, please?" Void continued even as I felt the Oni materialise behind us.

Before the nurse could say so much as a word, a sword appeared in my peripheral vision, stabbing the innocent man in the stomach.

I tutted unhappily, dancing around the barrier to catch the nurse before he fell. "Don't be wasteful," I scolded the Oni lightly, only to get no reaction bar the tilting of his masked face. I didn't bother asking for Void's permission, I merely angled the man's head in my direction and sank my fangs into his throat, sucking the blood from his jugular as my fingers absently toyed with the hole in his gut, running my nails over his insides like they were toys.

"Well I guess I'll just find her myself," Void said from the other side of the desk, sounding ever so slightly annoyed as I finally let the human drop to the ground, completely lifeless. "See?" he asked me lightly, gesturing for me to follow him. "_Fun_."

I hopped over the desk with a swing, appearing at his side, my shoes slapping against the floor. I reached up with the hand that had been toying with the wound, beginning to lick the blood from my fingers with eager pleasure.

"_This_ is how you're supposed to look," he commented offhandedly as we walked deeper into the depths of the hospital, casting an appreciative glance over at me, that sexy smirk on his lips, making me want nothing more than to force him up against a wall and have my way with him.

It felt good, to have Stiles appreciate _this _side of me. I knew it wasn't really him, but it was as good as I was ever going to get, and it was all I wanted – as much as I could _want_ without a soul.

I opened my mouth to retort, only for Void to push me forwards, gesturing for me to walk ahead of him. "Remember how we talked about chaos?" he asked, though I needed no reminder.

"You want me to clear the way, your majesty?" I countered sarcastically, adding in a little curtsey for effect. He said nothing, merely smirking devilishly and jerking his head in the forward direction. I sighed teasingly before giving up and matching his smirk, spinning around and practically bouncing on my heels as I wandered past our bodyguards. "Ready to cause some chaos, boys?"

Necks were snapped as lights flickered, I found endless entertainment in the bodies dropping like rag dolls under my careless touch. My laughter echoed around the room, almost inaudible over the terrified screams of the humans in our path.

"Had your fill yet?" Void asked when it was all over – much too soon for my liking – everybody in our way either dead or dying.

I licked at the blood around my mouth, pressing a hand to my sloshy stomach. "More than you know," I murmured contently, smiling widely as I stretched. "Can I clock off for the night?"

"No," he deadpanned gruffly, eyeing the empty, blood soaked halls like he was considering his next move. "It's time to make a divine move," he eventually said, his words calculated and careful.

I hummed in interest, leaning into him and sniffing his deathly scent. "Is that so?" I asked, letting my finger trail over his perfect cheekbone, watching in fascination as a trail of blood smeared down the pale skin.

"Oh yes," he replied lowly, peering at me through hooded, dead eyes. "And you're going to enjoy this one _immensely_."

* * *

We sat in silence, and I began to doubt his earlier statement. This didn't seem like something I was going to enjoy. In fact, I was bored out of my _fucking _mind.

"Soon," Void murmured for at least the third time, sitting patiently on the stairs. I struggled not to growl in annoyance.

As I glanced over at him through the dark, taking in his beautiful face and dark, dead eyes – I got an idea.

I purred, the sound intrigued as I suddenly and unexpectedly got to my knees, pushing him back and forcing his elbows off his knees, pressing him against the steps behind him. "Now isn't the time," he grunted, trying to push me off.

I remained firm, refusing to be shrugged off. "Come now," I whispered in his ear enticingly. "We have time to kill."

"We also have an audience."

"Hm," I hummed, brushing my lips over the shell of his ear, content to ignore the Oni silently surrounding us. "Kinda hot, huh?"

He gave in, as I had been confident he would. Our lips pressed together, and there was nothing hesitant or innocent about it. It was all slick and hot, the mashing of teeth and tongues. His hands slid down to grab greedily at my ass, and I rocked against him in encouragement.

I wished we had time to sate our urges, but I knew time was running out.

I nipped selfishly at him lip, and he bit back enough for the deliciously sweet taste of blood to fill our met mouths. I groaned unabashedly, scraping my nails down his back so hard that I felt the cotton of his shirt rip slightly under the pressure.

I wanted to continue so badly. One last hurrah, if you would.

I knew there was every chance one of us was going to die tonight – if not both of us. I wasn't stupid enough to think we were immortal. Everything could be killed, no matter how old. I wanted to spend my possible last minutes experiencing bliss, not guilt or pain. Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

I could run, that had occurred to me. But now I was in too deep. I had to see this through, even if it meant the end of everything. At the thought a picture of Stiles popped up in my head, quickly followed by a dying, bloodied Allison.

The guilt didn't come. No, it was more of a dull ache, like I was missing something vital from within myself, but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was. The ache seemed to travel through my veins like a poison, making my every nerve itch in pained irritation.

I should have been in mourning. Why didn't I feel anything?

I threw myself into Void's embrace just that little bit more, pretending for one confusingly gratifying minute that it really was Stiles that I was wrapped up in.

Before I could contemplate the odd sensation or forgotten desires, I heard footsteps slap against the concrete just over the other side of the school. It was hidden from view, but I recognised the steps with ease. "They're here," I panted, pulling away from Void regretfully.

He grunted and quickly shoved me off of him, straightening his clothes almost as an afterthought, cracking his neck much like I frequently did. Then he sat back in his regular position like nothing had occurred at all. He was so unaffected by my presence, nothing I did was enough to faze him. His heart didn't race at my touch, and it was strangely dissatisfying.

We didn't have to wait long, probably a minute and a half at the most, before another few sets of footsteps padded along the road leading to our place.

Derek appeared in the shadows, in his hands a familiar, dangerous item.

"Did you bring us a present?" Void asked loudly, as though the wolves wouldn't be able to hear if he'd just whispered.

"I brought two."

The twins appeared on either side of the ex-alpha, their eyes glowing a forlorn blue. I giggled at their tough-guy stances, reclining further back onto the step, one leg lazily tossed over the other though my eyes had slowly faded to red, my fangs appearing to accompany them. I liked to be prepared, but at the same time I didn't really consider them a threat. It wasn't a full moon, and they sure as hell weren't alphas.

"I've heard of an alpha-pack, Derek," Void responded calmly, something like amusement spread across his shadowed face, "but not a pack of former-alphas." I let loose another giggle, the sound shrill and haunting. "It's a little sad, isn't it?"

"I might not be an alpha anymore," Derek began, the trio slowly beginning to approach. "But I can still fight like one."

"Can you, now?" I goaded him, still draped lazily on the steps like a model for a photo shoot and not a blood-covered creature of the night preparing for battle

Void smirked, still so very amused. He lifted his hand, holding it still in the air for a long few moments before jerking it sharply down. The Oni disappeared, only to reappear in front of the makeshift pack, katanas at the ready.

I stifled a yawn, climbing to my feet and cracking my knuckles. "Bored now," I sang to Void, bordering dangerously on a whine.

"Me too," he muttered. "Now, let them have their squabble. We have somewhere else to be," he snapped, turning around and striding up the stairs, back towards the school.

"I don't get to fight?" I pouted, though I was quick to follow him, not wanting to get left behind.

"You'll get your fight," he assured me distractedly, stalking with purpose across the quad. He paused suddenly and forced me to freeze with him. I looked around, seeing nothing but shadows and empty school grounds.

"What?" I asked under my breath, leaning around him to see he was still staring over his shoulder. I watched as one of the Oni suddenly exploded, something that wasn't quite ash covering the ground it had stood on. "They can kill them?" I hissed furiously, my fangs barred as a panic built within me.

"It would seem so," he growled back, instantly turning and once more stalking in the direction of the school, a tenseness to his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

I was close on his heels, my footsteps as silent as his. "I can hear them," I whispered, listening to the faint sound of four heartbeats coming from inside the building. Void pressed his finger to his lips, a look of pure fury on his features as he soundlessly slipped inside the school.

The four of them were grouped by the front entrance, all of them breathless and surprised. "We're okay," Scott breathed in pure shock, relief colouring his tone.

"Don't speak too soon,_ little wolf_," I snarled condescendingly, just seconds before Void slammed him into the lockers, successfully getting him out of the way. I reached forwards, backhanding Kira across the face. The little girl dropped her toy sword with a clang, collapsing to the floor, unconscious. I flexed my knuckles, pleased by my show of power.

"This was _my _game," Void spoke abruptly, rage splayed across his face, pure loathing in his black eyes. Excitement sparked within me, a hunger for more than his body. "You think you can beat me at _my_ game?" He was pissed, and I loved it – I _fed_ on it as though it were blood.

The giggle bubbled up my throat and out from my lips, the sound once more hysterical, except this time there was no confusing it for a sob. This was clear and pure eager amusement. I watched in rapture, enthusiasm sitting comfortably in my gut as I crept forwards, watching and listening intently. Everything was going to end one way or another, and if I tried really hard, I could pretend I knew which side would come out the other end of the night.

"Divine move?" Void snarled, stalking forwards. "_Divine move_? You think you have any moves at all? You can kill the Oni, but _me_? I'm a _thousand years old! You can't kill me_!"

"But we can change you!"

The words were shouted by Lydia, and they made both Void and I stop our approach. We paused, hesitating only slightly. "What?" he sneered, lip curled back. I moved closer, scrunching his coat in my fingers, holding tightly, prepared to step in should things get physical.

A hint of panic rolled through my gut, and I could practically feel the scales of power tipping ever so slightly in their direction. I was losing control, I was losing my grip, and I was losing my faith.

"You forgot about the scroll," Stiles spoke. The sound of his voice made me ache again, the missing limb making itself known, but I didn't react, staring back at them with wrath. His arm was around Lydia and she was burrowed into his side. Even if I'd been able to feel, I wouldn't know how I'd feel about _that._

Void froze, and instantly I knew this was it. Someone else was going to die. "Change the host," the Nogitsune whispered in horror. He knew it too.

Stiles spoke, his eyes carefully focused on Void and not me. "You can't be a fox _and_ a wolf."

I noticed Scott before he did, and I couldn't help the shout that travelled up my throat. "Void!" I screamed in warning, panic seizing me, but I wasn't quick enough. The canine teeth of the alpha slid into his arm, the scent of his rotten blood filling the school hallway. "Void!" I screamed again as he dropped to his knees. I didn't know what to do – there was nothing I _could _do.

Rage reared it's head in my gut, but my shock had me frozen, unable to do anything as I watched Void convulse and choke, before his body disappeared all together, becoming nothing but ash, before that too disintegrated into absolutely nothing.

I screamed again, but this wasn't a sound of shock or fear, this was a sound of pure, unadulterated fury.

My body swung around, my hand slamming into Scott's face, sending him back several steps. I kicked out my left leg, nailing Kira in the gut and forcing her to to floor too. My breathing sped up, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop it. I screamed again, the sound choked through and breathless but warning.

Scott came at me again, but I was seeing red. I moved quicker than he could ever hope to, slipping between his hands and slamming my fist into his stomach just as my fangs slid into his arms. I didn't bother drinking, instead just tearing a chunk of flesh from his body, spitting it out onto the floor.

The alpha cried out in pain, shifting away from me to protect himself.

"Jules."

The fight left me instantaneously. My knees gave out and I dropped to the floor. My head was swimming and my chest felt tight. I couldn't seem to suck air into my lungs, it was like they were full of water or, more likely, blood. I tore at my chest where my useless heart lay, in more pain than a broken organ should have been feeling.

Was I having a fucking panic attack?

"Jules," Stiles spoke again, approaching me quickly and without hesitation.

As though he wasn't afraid? That wasn't right. He should have been afraid. Everyone should have been afraid.

"Jules," he repeated, coming closer and kneeling down beside me. I sucked in air, the wheezing was actually embarrassing, but I couldn't stop. My eyes burned with tears I refused to shed. What was I meant to do? Where was I meant to go? Were they going to kill me too?

I had no purpose any more. Void was gone, so what could I do now?

Stiles' face was level with mine, his gaze locked with mine. His eyes were soft and that familiar golden caramel that I'd forgotten how much I loved. I could see the words in his eyes before he spoke them, and pure fear stabbed my insides. I couldn't listen, I simply wouldn't survive it.

"Jules," he said again, reaching his hand up, his fingers brushing my temple, gently pushing the raven hair out of the way and tucking it affectionately behind my ear. I flinched away from his touch, but he didn't seem to notice. "Please," he whispered softly.

"No," I bit out through clenched teeth. I could feel it beginning – I could feel it working. How did this human boy have such an effect on me? How could he have a heart so strong it could stir the dead?

I'd had this conversation before. It had felt so long ago, but it was really only a few short weeks. I'd begged and pleaded for Kol not to take away my humanity, or at least plant the seed that would eventually do so. It hadn't worked, and I had a feeling history was about to repeat itself.

"Jules," he said bracingly, and I knew I wasn't going to like whatever came next. "I forgive you."

The sob tore through me like a shot. I lifted a hand to my head as though it might stop the pain. "No," I repeated. I ached so painfully that I wasn't sure I was ever going to recover. What was it like not to be in agony? I couldn't remember.

"I know you think you have nothing to come back to," he whispered gently, like the words were only for us. My sight was blurred with tears, but I could still make out his imploring, hopeful face. "But you do. You have us, and we _forgive_ you."

That couldn't have been true, but I would let him think what he had to to get him through.

"Please don't make me," I cried, reaching out to grasp at the lapels of his shirt, tugging at them desperately, bringing him closer as I begged so very pathetically. Begged with him not to. Begged with the ever allusive God to set me free; to make the pain stop. "Please, it hurts so much."

"I know," he cooed softly, but how could he? He was _human_, he couldn't _understand. _He never would. "I _know_. But we need you now. So come back to us. Come back to me."

He'd asked before, back in the loft – a lifetime ago. Then I hadn't been ready, it hadn't been the right moment. I'd had something tying me to this place, to this darkness. Now it was just me and I was once again all alone.

I was at a fork in the road. I knew it could go either way, this decision would determine everything.

But these things were unpredictable. The switch was almost like letting an entirely new person take over; because that's essentially what the soul is, wasn't it? Our morals and our principles, they make us who we are. I was changing those completely, so in a way, wasn't I dying? Who knew what this 'new and ensouled' me would do? She could ruin everything. Or she could make everything better.

It was a roll of the dice.

And I hated that which I couldn't control.

"Jules, please," he was begging me, and I turned my attention back to him.

"Don't ask me," I pleaded, pulling him closer, his warm breath fanning over my face and his scent swimming in my head. He was everywhere, he was everything. How had I once loved the scent of rotten death when there was this minty, chocolatey musk that was so _Stiles_? That was so _alive_? I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to face the pain.

But did I really have a choice?

What was the alternative? Sit alone in the dark? Go back to a life of hookers and gambling? Of sex and bloodlust? Of nothing but pleasure and that damned, horrible numbness?

What if I could be _happy_?

"It's going to hurt," I whispered to him, not realising I'd spoken until it was out of my mouth. A traitorous tear leaked from my eye, dripping down my cheek and mixing with the sticky, dried blood coating my lips and chin. Like an uncontrollable animal. "Stiles, it's going to hurt so much that it might kill me."

"Jules," he hummed back, leaning forwards enough to press our foreheads together. He was warm to the touch, and soft, and pliable. He was so..._human_. "I love you."

The sob that escaped me was raw and honest, and as I sucked in Stiles' scent, I closed my eyes so I didn't have to look at him, reaching inside myself, blindly searching for that switch that only I could find, and finally hitting it without hesitation.

Everything went white, then there was nothing but intense, all encompassing, unending pain.

* * *

They weren't there when I woke up.

That made sense I supposed, or at least, I couldn't fault them for it. I would have left me too.

I could hear their voices and heartbeats nearby, but I couldn't distinguish what they were saying. At least, not over the screaming happening in my head, or the pounding ache ricocheting through my temples with every blink of my eyes.

My throat burned and my stomach ached. I felt my soul – if you could call it that – sitting uncomfortably in my chest, like it didn't quite belong. There was an odd sound filling the hall, some kind of strange staccato noise that seemed to completely surround me.

Then I realised it _was _me.

I was sobbing.

My brain was taking a little longer to catch up than my body. I was grasping desperately at my chest, tearing at my clothes, desperately trying to reach within me and tear my humanity out with my own two hands. Scratches appeared on my porcelain skin, blood dripping down into my bra.

Oh _God – _the blood.

I gagged, stopping my pointless scratching to hold myself up so I could throw up the contents of my stomach onto the polished floor of the school hallway, retching loudly, the sound bouncing off the hollow walls.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying desperately to hold myself together, because it felt like I was falling apart.

I shook uncontrollably, squeezing my hands into fists until my nails hurt my palms. Why was I alone?

The answer was obvious, but I just wanted to pretend I didn't know it for a little while longer.

My options were limited. I could stay, be alienated from the people I had once considered family, or I could leave, escape before I had to bare the weight of their disappointed gazes on my skin. Neither choice was appealing.

Could I do it? Was I strong enough to leave Scott? To leave Melissa and Derek and Isaac and John? To leave _Stiles_?

The answer was no, I wasn't strong enough. But I had something more powerful driving me. I had fear. So, I did what I do best when the going gets tough. I stood shakily to my feet, my knees trembling under my weight as I struggled not to tip over. I listened intently to the sounds of human heartbeats coming from outside, where the inevitable judgement awaited. I straightened my clothes, swallowed back a mouthful of bile, and then I ran.

Oh, how I ran.

* * *

**A/N: Hello lovely people – I apologise for being MIA recently. I've been swept up in this sucky thing called 'life'. Anyway, this one took so long as I really struggled with it. I'm not even totally happy with this final outcome, but I've kept you all waiting long enough. I hope this was easy enough to understand, but if anyone has any questions or queries, please don't even hesitate to contact me and we can talk!**

**From here we move onto season 4. I'm only in the early stages or writing this next part of the story, so bare with me, because good things will come from your patience! **

**I'm also working on a Youtube trailer for this story, but it's slow going, so I'll keep you updated on when that will be coming out. Who do you guys see as Juliet? I know I have said there are certain people I prefer in the role, but I wanna know who YOU picture.**

**I love you all, thanks for sticking with me – by the way, keep your eyes peeled for a certain Harry Potter story that may or may not be coming your way before the end of the month (I hope you guys are still keen for a Fred/OC, because it's starting to look pretty damn good if I say so myself) ;)**


	63. Wild West

_I've been living my life on the edge_

_Slip and fall if I take one more step_

_There's safety in numbers, I guess_

_But I'm going rogue in the wild, wild west_

Wild West – Lissie

* * *

I'd been looking forward to Christmas in Beacon Hills. I was going to spend the day at the Stilinski household, drinking shitty eggnog and watching a selection of Stiles' favourite holiday-themed action movies. I would have let John talk me through the rules of whatever sport he was watching that morning, and I would have stared in awe at the presents under the tree that had my name on them – something I hadn't gotten to enjoy for a _very_ long time.

Instead, it was Christmas Eve and I was in a random park in upstate New York, sipping on a warm beer and sucking in the chemicals of a stale cigarette, my feet kicked up on the other side of the uncomfortable bench, my jeans coated with a thin layer of snow from the crying sky.

I couldn't complain – well, I _could_ have, but I didn't _deserve_ to.

I supposed I could go find a hotel; locked myself inside a high-end room and watched porn while I took a warm bath. But again, it all came back to what I _deserved_. And it wasn't that.

I took another sip of my beer, the liquid slowly getting colder with each minute exposed to the below-freezing temperatures.

My phone rang, the sound cutting through the still night air. At one point it might have made me flinch, but I was far too numb to the world these days. Besides, I knew who it was.

I hadn't had the heart to turn the phone off – no matter how it may have been the easier thing to do.

No, instead I stared at the screen every single time it rang, waiting for a message to be left so I could listen to it over and over as I reminded myself how much of a pathetic asshole I was.

"_Jules,_" he said my name like there was nothing else he'd rather say. "_Come home. We love you. _I _love you_."

It was pretty much the same thing every time, but each recording got more desperate, more upset. I was just waiting for him to hit the point where he moved passed desperate and hit angry. Then, just maybe, it would get easier.

I kicked at a pebble on the street, tipping my head back and swallowing another mouthful of beer, finishing off the bottle. I let it drop to the cement with a loud clink, stepping over the slumbering form of a homeless woman and making my way downtown, intent on finding a bottle shop and compelling myself some real grog.

"Well, if it isn't little girl lost."

The voice made a freeze, my boots sliding an inch deeper into the thick snow. "Fuck _me_," I groaned, tipping my head back to look up at the cloudy sky, as though asking the heavens why _he _had to be here _now._

"A little far from home, aren't we?" he asked coyly from where he was leaned against a building to my left.

I sighed, the sound as tired as I felt. "How did you find me, Klaus?" The words were spat, making it obvious how much I resented him in that moment.

"The witch in my pocket, of course," he responded smoothly, and I finally turned to look at him. He was stood casually, in an expensive looking waistcoat with a pair of leather gloves on his elegant hands.

"What do you want?"

"Come now," he murmured, his accent thick in the empty, silent street. "Where are your manners? One should exchange pleasantries when greeting their oldest friend."

"Merry Christmas darling, how are you today? Lovely weather we're having, isn't it? " I responded sardonically, allowing my own long-since buried accent to become apparent, words lilting in a way I had forgotten they could. I paused, and Klaus sent me his most unimpressed stare. "What do you _want, _Klaus?" I finally asked, my tone bordering on rude, but at this point I wasn't afraid – if anything I'd probably be relieved if he killed me.

"I'm here to cash in my favour," he told be after a beat, taking a step away from the building and moving towards me. I watched him carefully, taking note of the way the falling snowflakes stuck to his skin – the surface so cold that they didn't melt.

Dread filled me. I knew this day was coming, I supposed I'd just been hoping it wouldn't be for a long time yet. Who knew what he'd want me to do? Still, I kept the alarm from showing on my face, instead tilting my head curiously, shoving my hands into my pockets and appraising him thoughtfully. "Go on, then," I prompted him casually, bracing myself for the coming instruction.

"As you know, I have my hand in a countless number of projects spanning the world over," he began slowly, taking calculated steps forward as he began to wander around me in a loose circle, seemingly without a care in the world. "Without constant supervision, some can get away from me – and I _am_ quite the busy man."

"Get to the point, Klaus," I snapped impatiently, then froze as I awaited a reaction, only for him to smirk and continue pacing.

"I've got an operation running down South – have you ever heard of the Calaveras?"

I couldn't have stopped my eyebrows from raising if I'd tried. "_You're_ the head of the Calaveras? One of _the_ most renowned hunter clans in the Northern hemisphere?"

"Well, not that they know it, of course," he murmured with a casual wave of his hand.

He seemed surprisingly approachable, here in a small and lifeless back street of New York, during the middle of the night while snow fell from the sky, coating the streets like a white sheet. "Let me guess," I replied slyly. "You call yourself a _puppeteer_?"

"Something to that effect."

"And this involves my favour, _how_?"

Klaus paused, seeming to consider me closely before he spoke. "I want you to go down and keep an eye on them," he finally told me, watching my every move. I made sure to keep my thoughts from showing on my face. "They've recently procured some rather valuable information. I need it seen to that they're doing as ordered with it."

I hesitated, considering my next words carefully. "And what are they ordered to do with it?"

He smirked, the expression pure sin. "Pass it along to the right parties."

"...what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I demanded frustratedly.

"Believe me when I say it will all make sense once you're there," he assured me smoothly.

I hesitated. South was the complete other direction than I wanted to be heading in. But this was one of _Klaus'_ favours, it wasn't one I could simply ignore at my leisure. Not if I valued my freedom or having all of my limbs intact.

But still, I wouldn't have been _me_ if I didn't at least test the boundaries. "And if I say no?"

Klaus let out a sound bordering on a snort. "We both know that isn't an option, Juliet."

I scowled but otherwise didn't argue. I cricked my neck, hearing the bones crack at the violent tug and feeling absolutely no better after it was done. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, hating myself just that little bit more as I looked up at Klaus' face, illuminated in the glow from the overhanging streetlight. "So," I began begrudgingly, a sneer sitting comfortably on my lips. "Where exactly am I off to, then?"

The Original hybrid smirked, the expression chilling me to the bone just as he answered my bitter question.

"Mexico."

* * *

It was hot and I was bored.

I may have had my 'soul' back, but that sure as hell didn't mean I was going to sit around knitting and drinking lemonade all fucking day. I _could _have been partying it up in one of the many dives and clubs that this town held, but I had to assume Klaus had eyes everywhere, and so I was stuck doing my actual God damn job.

I prowled along the wall of the back alley I was stashed in, patchy old coat thrown haphazardly over my shoulders, succeeding in blending me in with the local population.

"Go hang out in Mexico, he says. It'll be like a holiday, he says," I muttered sourly, tipping my head back against the wall, halfheartedly listening to the sounds of the party happening within. I'd successfully located the Calaveras, in fact I'd found them within the first twenty minutes of arriving in town.

I couldn't get inside – I'd learned that the hard way. I could enter the club, but anything beyond that was blocked off, preventing me from getting in with a massive, invisible, annoying-as-fuck barrier.

It had been days since I'd arrived – by coach, since Klaus was too much of a bastard to even spring for business. Dick.

The most I'd gotten was a voice message telling me 'not to fuck up' before all lines of communication were cut off and I was left – metaphorically – in the dark.

"He, are you okay?" an accented voice pulled me from my thoughts, coming from right in front of me.

Some young kid was standing before me, staring at me like he thought I'd escaped a mental institute. "Leave," I instructed him sharply, meeting his eyes with a glare. Being in close quarters with humans was no good for either party right now, what with my tolerance still so lowered and me being in such a cranky mood.

Only, the human didn't move.

The compulsion wasn't _fucking _working.

"I said _leave_," I snarled as threateningly as I possibly could without bringing my fangs into the picture. He didn't move, just continued to stare at me like he was considering calling someone for help.

I understood – I hadn't brushed my hair in days, and my clothes were chosen specifically so people assumed I was homeless. I didn't look any different to the hundred other homeless guys in town, but apparently my pretty face earned me special consideration.

"Look, I can call someone-"

In a flash I was on my feet, snarling furiously as I grasped the well-meaning kid by the lapel, forcefully dragging him from the alley and roughly tossing him out into the moonlight as I held my breath, hoping I had the strength to resist the call of his scent.

He stumbled out into the town square, just barely catching himself before he fell to his knees.

"Just stay out-" I began to shout, only to completely freeze as I caught an achingly familiar scent on the wind.

Chocolate and mint.

My frozen heart seemed to leap, and I stopped breathing altogether, though this time not by choice. My eyes began to sting and my jaw ached with the need to cry.

What was he _doing _in motherfucking _Mexico_?

He was the absolute _last_ person I expected to run into down here. My dark, pained eyes swept the court, jumping from person to person, desperate to lock on to the person, the _only_ person I wanted to see, and who I _couldn't _see, ever again.

Stiles looked happy, which killed me, but I had to reason that wanting him _not_ to be happy made me an even worse excuse for a person, so I decided to be glad of that fact and move on. He was with Lydia, they were heading across to the building my alley was linked to, heading towards the Calaveras. That was the only explanation, they had no other ties to this world, after all.

Almost as though sensing my eyes on them, Stiles looked up abruptly, right at where I was standing. I dove out of the way, flattening myself against the wall and blending into the shadows in a way only one of my kind could.

I listened intently to the sound of his heartbeat, because suddenly it was the only sound I _could _hear.

It raced, speeding up more with every passing second. "_You okay_?" Lydia's sweet voice asked him, sounding concerned as it broke through the sound of his pounding heart.

"_I thought I saw..._" he trailed off, sounding suddenly breathless. My hands tightened into fists, my nails biting into my skin uncomfortably, but I didn't move an inch. "_Never mind_," he suddenly breathed, sounding curiously hopeless. "_Let's go._"

I listened as they moved to the entrance to the club, my heart in my throat, seeming to choke me as it sat there. They took a moment to get in, and I couldn't look around the corner without risking being spotted. Once they went in, I couldn't help them – they were on their own.

I wanted to call out, wanted to stop them and find out what their plan was, but for the life of me I couldn't make my body move. I stood frozen, focused on the sound of Stiles' steadily slowing heart until it disappeared into the building, and I was left, once more, alone.

I figured they'd be out eventually, whatever they were doing shouldn't have taken long. I hadn't noticed anyone else wander in after them, which could only mean they'd come before. And surely they _had_ come, because it would be suicide to go in by themselves.

But then hours began to pass, and I could hear nothing over the thrash of dance music. More hours passed, nobody left the building, and I began to get anxious.

I wrestled with myself. Could I face them? If it was face them or let them die, I obviously chose to face them. But how did I know they weren't going to get out just fine without my help.

I knew the answer instantaneously: I couldn't take that chance.

As afraid as I was, they were the closest thing to family I had left. Wasn't that sad?

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered to myself in sheer disbelief. I smacked my head against the wall twice before cracking my knuckles and walking straight out of my safe little haven.

The men at the door seemed unaffected by my presence.

"Let me guess, there's a secret password?" I drawled lazily, standing with my hips jutted out and my muscles coiled in preparation. The men didn't so much as blink. "You wanna let me in, or are we gonna do this the hard way?" I asked them, glancing up at the camera in the corner purposefully. I would almost assume the guards were robots, they didn't move a muscle. "Hard way it is," I shrugged like it made no difference to me. It did though – that meant it was going to be hard for me too.

Cricking my neck one final time, I let the blood drain to my eyes and my fangs to slip free of my gums. I slid into a crouch, snarling ferociously at the pair, who _finally_ jumped into action. I put up a tiny fight – it had to be somewhat realistic – getting in a light punch or two for show as I waited for them to make a real move.

It was then I felt the sting of a syringe in my neck and the burning sensation of vervain as the poison crept through my veins.

"Son of a bitch," I cursed quietly, even though I'd known it was coming. My body dropped to the ground, every inch of my skin seeming to be on fire. I hissed, cursing up a storm in my head as I felt two arms grasp me and drag me inside.

"Come in, Juliet Adams," an old, accented voice spoke, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered how they'd known my real name, but I didn't give it much thought as I was dragged through back halls by my arms, one hand twisted painfully in my hair.

I didn't even have time to worry about facing the others, everything was a haze and everything burned.

"I believe this is yours?" the same voice spat as a door was opened and I was unceremoniously thrown into a damp room where I could hear four appetising hearts pumping under thin layers of skin. "I don't appreciate being lied to. And I don't take kindly to threats from idiotic vampires."

The door was slammed shut again, and I groaned, slowly pushing myself up onto my elbows, raising my head and looking at the quartet of people in the room. "Hey," I greeted them casually, as though I didn't feel half dead and as though grief mixed with guilt wasn't eating me alive from the inside.

They stared, and stared, and then they stared some more.

I groaned, forcing myself to my knees, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, trying to battle the pain still dripping through my every vein.

"Jules?!" Scott gasped, like he was only just figuring out it was me.

Pain ricocheted through me at the sound of my friend's voice, and the look in their eyes. Scott looked shocked, Kira surprised, Malia curious and Stiles...haunted. Just when I thought the pain couldn't get any worse, it turned the dial up to agony.

I decided to just keep from looking at Stiles all together. It was probably for the best; to minimise the damage.

"Where have you _been_?" the alpha asked, for once actually sounding demanding. Maybe he was finally growing into his new title.

"Here and there," I answered tiredly, already regretting the entire endeavour now that I was inside and nobody was getting tortured. Scott's eyes narrowed, clearly I hadn't given the answer he was looking for. "Spent most of the holidays in New York," I told him, unsteadily getting to my feet, holding onto the wall for help.

"Why are you dressed like a hobo?" Malia asked bluntly.

I clicked my tongue at the girl, who stared back at me impassively. "I'm undercover," I replied with a shrug that made me wince. "Had to keep a 'low profile' as you kids say."

"...Literally everyone says that," Kira injected.

I grit my teeth, both against the girl and the agonising poison making it's way through my body. "It's so hard to keep up with fads, just leave me alone," I grumbled, reaching up to press a hand over my chest where the ache was the most intense.

"What is she talking about?" Malia whispered to Stiles, whose heart seemed about ready to leap out of it's chest cavity with how wildly it was beating.

"She...she tends to ramble...when she's poisoned with-um-vervain..." Stiles stammered factually, like he'd read a book on '_The Idiosyncrasies of Juliet Adams_'. I still didn't meet his gaze, instead focusing on Scott, who was apparently still getting over the shock of my appearance.

"So...what are you doing in Mexico?" the wolf finally asked, confusion spread across his features.

"I think the better question is: what are _you_ doing in Mexico?" I countered quickly.

"He asked you first," Stiles said, sounding surprisingly confident considering how his heart was stuttering.

I turned my head in his direction but kept my eyes focused on Scott. "I asked him second."

"That's not-"

"We're looking for Derek," Scott answered me, familiar puppy-dog eyes glistening with emotion as he watched me.

"Derek's missing?" I asked, surprised by the information.

"He's not _here_?" he questioned in shock, like I would know.

I shrugged unhelpfully. "I haven't been inside or anything, I'd just been keeping tabs from the alley outside. I honestly wouldn't know."

"And is that why you're here? To keep tabs on the Calaveras?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but at the last second glanced up at the camera blinking at us from the corner. I hesitated, wondering how to reply without saying anything the hunters would understand.

"A not-so-friendly-_friend_ cornered me in Brooklyn," I told them, meeting Scott's eyes pointedly. "Asked me to come keep an eye on things."

"And you just _came_?" Scott asked doubtfully, knowing me well enough to know it wasn't in my nature to do as I was told.

I smirked, but I was too tired to make it anything more than a quirk of my lips, the expression never reaching my eyes. "Let's just say that I _owed him a favour,_" I said meaningfully, and instantly two of the four tensed, realising the weight of what I was saying.

"What does _that_ mean?" Malia snapped impatiently, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at me suspiciously.

"It doesn't matter," I retorted quickly, not in the mood to explain, particularly with a camera listening to my every word. "What _does_ matter is that I'm here, and so far, so good."

Kira shifted awkwardly, looking over at me warily. "So you're not..._evil_ anymore?" she whispered the word like it was a curse.

A stab of pain ricocheted through me, and I couldn't stop the wince from travelling across my face. I rolled my shoulders, schooling my features, aiming for nonchalant. "That depends on your definition of evil, Vixen," I threw in a wink for good measure, hoping it masked the pain in my gaze.

"What did you just call me-?"

"So you...you're _you _again?" It was Stiles who spoke this time, surprising me greatly with the strange vulnerability in his voice.

I didn't want to look at him, but I found I couldn't help myself. I met his honey gaze, honesty overflowing in my own. "Yes," I answered him gently, eyes flickering over his smooth skin, more pale than usual, and melted at the sight of the constellations of moles littered over his cheeks.

He didn't seem to know how to answer me. He swallowed, and my eyes followed the dip of his adams apple, breathing in and identifying his scent in the room so packed with other people.

I waited for him to speak, giving him the time he so clearly needed to collect his thoughts.

He eventually opened his mouth, finally prepared to respond, only for footsteps outside the heavy door meeting my ears. I cut him off with an urgent hiss, and he stopped abruptly, narrowing his eyes before I spun around, fixing my gaze to the door.

It was yanked open, a group of men barging into the room, weapons in hand.

"Can we help you, gentlemen?" I asked them casually, and the one in front – clearly the leader – shot me an ugly sneer.

"The kitsune and alpha are coming with us," he growled, voice accented and scratchy.

"Will we get them back?" I countered quickly.

He smirked, and I realised that on the wrong person, that particular expression could be really fucking ugly. "More or less," he spat, leer in his beady black eyes.

I stood to my full height – it wasn't that much of a difference, I was on the shorter side as it was, but I added effect by barring my fangs threateningly. "If you want them, you're going to have to come in here and take them," I told them simply, the words snarled around my fangs.

The two gooneys behind him pulled out handguns that I had no doubt were filled with wooden bullets. I held back a sigh, but I was prepared for this fight – because like hell was I going to let them take Scott out of my sight. Who knew what kind of creepy torture shit they were going to subject him to?

"Jules," the alpha himself spoke up from behind me, and I took a risk as I peeked over my shoulder, taking my eyes off the thugs for one long moment. His puppy dog eyes were focused on the men, intelligence sparking in his gaze. "It's okay," he said reassuringly. "We'll go with you," he clearly spoke to the hunters now.

"Uh, Scott," I murmured through gritted teeth. "What are you doing?"

"We need to do this," he said calmly, reaching out a hand to Kira, who took it with shaking fingers. "We'll be back soon."

I sensed more than heard the order, and a stubborn part of me reared it's head, demanding that I do the opposite of what I was told. That part of me wasn't easy to silence, but it was for _Scott_, so I pushed it down and stepped away, allowing my fangs to disappear though I continued to glare warningly at the hunters.

The men grabbed the teens roughly, shoving them from the room and shooting me victorious sneers before the doors once more slammed shut in our faces.

I sighed, letting my tense, coiled muscles relax. There was a beat of silence and I focused on the sounds of two racing hearts from behind me, suddenly realising the less than savoury situation I was suddenly and abruptly thrown into.

I was stuck in a room with Stiles – no Scott to use as a buffer. I slowly turned around, my gaze falling on Stiles, who was staring back at me with wild, confused eyes. I glanced over at the one person left in the room with us. Malia didn't appear awkward, instead she seemed irritated, glaring fiercely across at me, arms crossed over her chest.

"So," I began, crossing my own arms if only for something to do with my hands, "how've you been?"

Stiles seemed to explode all at once, disbelief and outrage appearing on his beautiful face, honey eyes lighting up with barely contained fury.

"_How_ have I _been_?" he hissed incredulously, and I actually had to stop myself from flinching back at the icy venom in his tone. "_That's_ what you choose to go with?"

"What else am I supposed to say, Stiles?" I demanded defensively, feeling my own pride rear it's head in my chest; that basic instinct telling me to maintain the upper hand.

"It's been over a _month_, Juliet!"

"I know that."

"And you've been, what? Living it up in a deluxe suite in NYC? Hanging out with _Klaus_?" he asked bitterly, almost like he was jealous, which made a spark of hope ignite within me. Maybe he wouldn't hate me forever; how could he if he was feeling _jealous_ over me?

"That's _not_ what it was like, Stiles," I murmured, the pride in my tone and in my voice dropping from existence.

"Tell me then!" he insisted loudly, still riled up. "Tell me what the oh so great vampire, Juliet Adams, was doing on her vacation to the windy city!"

"What happened to the messages of love and hope? What happened to begging me to come back?" I snapped, rearing back defensively, a pained frown on my face and an immovable ache in my hollow chest. "Suddenly all that positivity's just gone? And what's left in it's place? Anger? Betrayal?" I demanded furiously, feeling betrayed by _myself_ when my eyes began to burn with unshed tears.

"Yes!" he spat, and I wasn't sure whether the fact that his eyes were watering made me happier or sadder.

"What do you want me to say?" I pressed desperately, my feet moving of their own accord, taking several large steps in his direction, my eyes focused on his glistening eyes and taking note of his heaving chest.

"An apology wouldn't be a bad start."

"_I'm sorry_!" the words were screamed more than they were spoken, but that only made them all the more sincere. With them, the floodgates were opened, and finally a tear trailed down my left cheek. I didn't wipe at it, not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention to the embarrassing slip up. "I'm sorry," this time the words were quieter, murmured to my old lover earnestly. My lips quivered, and I cast a glance over Stiles' shoulder at Malia who was watching us through narrowed, suspicious eyes.

Her presence made me uncomfortable, but there was little I could do, so I decided to ignore it for the time being, turning my focus back to a trembling Stiles. He looked torn between heartbreak and outrage, and neither were my desired reaction. I wanted to step closer, wrap my arms around him and hold him to me until he pushed me off.

I almost did, too. I reached out my hands, but paused as I caught sight of them in the painfully bright overhead lighting.

To a human's eyes there was nothing amiss, but vampire eyes were different – and if there was one thing they could see beyond anything else, it was the stain of spilled blood. My hands were covered with it, I'd spent weeks under the spray of a shower, trying to rid myself of the stains and smells of bloodshed, but they remained, as stubborn as myself.

Hands as dirty as mine belonged nowhere near a soul as pure as Stiles'.

"I don't think that's going to be enough this time," the kid himself finally spoke, lip trembling before he sucked it into his mouth, hiding it from view as he reminded me of the conversation currently taking place.

"I wouldn't expect it to be," I responded honestly, feeling as though my already shattered heart was breaking into even smaller shards than I thought possible. My voice was as hollow as me, my throat raw and dry. I swallowed, yet it did nothing but irritate me more.

Stiles was silent for a beat, watching me closely as though looking for signs that I was going to make a run for it or something equally as stupid. "What were you really doing in New York the past month?" he eventually asked, nostrils flaring with restrained emotion.

"Moping, hiding, licking my wounds," I listed bitterly, reaching up to brush my hair from my face. "Take your pick." I paused, considering the boy carefully. "How are you?" I couldn't help but ask, the concern showing in my anxious expression.

"Terrible," he answered honestly, pain in his whiskey eyes. It killed me, it truly and honestly did. The worst part was that I didn't know how to fix it; I didn't know if it _could_ be fixed. I didn't know if I _wanted _to. "So you didn't come here for me – us?" he corrected himself quickly, brow furrowed as he swallowed against the emotion.

"I would have, if I'd known you'd be here."

"Is that a lie?"

"Maybe."

He sighed, leaning his weight against the tiled pillar behind him, pressing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose.

"So, _why_ did you leave again?" Malia was the one to speak up now, her words blunt and unashamedly curious. "I tried asking Stiles, but he clams up whenever anyone says your name. And the others just tell me I need to ask him. It's getting annoying as fuck. I want a straight answer."

I appraised her closely, considering her words as I saw Stiles wince in my peripheral vision. "You know I went dark?" I spoke just as bluntly, crossing my arms over my chest and drawing myself up to my full but not quite intimidating height.

"You lost your soul, right?"

"Something to that effect." She was silent, waiting for my answer impatiently, foot tapping against the dirty tiles covering the floor. "I did some shitty things. Killed a whole bunch of people – ate most of them, started a whole lot of fights, joined forces with a demonic spirit possessing my human boyfriend," I listed off my trespasses casually, as though every single word wasn't a stake to the heart. "Imagine how bad things could get, then times it by eighty."

"Bad like 'locked-in-a-creepy-basement-in-the-middle-of-Mexico-while-half-our-group-gets-tortured-by-psychotic-hunters' bad?" she asked, quite obviously more than unimpressed by my explanation.

I suppose that did put things into perspective. Maybe _up_ wasn't the only place to go from here. What a depressing thought.

"I like you," I said in place of any sincere thoughts, forcing an amused smirk to flicker at my lips, though it was short lived.

"Thank God," she responded dryly, the picture of apathy. I snorted, eyes flickering over her form, wondering what sort of progress the girl had made since turning back into a human.

"Are the others all okay?" I asked Stiles, deciding to give the brilliantly sour girl some space. "Melissa and your dad? Chris and Isaac?"

"Melissa and my dad are fine, they think we're camping," Stiles told me, voice rough like he was suppressing emotion, which I decided to overlook. "But Chris and Isaac-" he paused, pain twisting his face into an agonised frown. "They couldn't stick around; not after..."

I swallowed my own emotion, feeling a wave of pain that may as well have been liquid vervain travelling through my veins, clenching my teeth together so tightly that it made my jaw ache. "Not after Allison," I finished, biting down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted my own blood.

I wanted to dive into a pool of gasoline then light myself on fire. I wanted to drop into a pit of vervain laced stakes. I wanted to toss my daylight ring into the Mariana Trench then wait for the sun's rays to consume me. But more than anything, I wanted to switch off my emotions. I wanted to go back to feeling nothing but pleasure and lust.

One look at Stiles was all it took for me to realise that wasn't an option.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice hoarse. "About Allison," I added as though he didn't know what I meant. I choked up, but thankfully stopped myself from making any pathetic sounds. "I'm so sorry." I thought of my friend's dark ebony hair – so like mine – and her patient brown eyes. I thought of her spirit and her bravery.

I thought about how I didn't get to say goodbye.

I was a monster.

I didn't meet Stiles' eyes, I couldn't. I couldn't face him; I was filled with too much shame. He took a breath in, as though he was going to speak, but suddenly we were plunged into darkness as the lights flickered off, staying that way for a beat before flickering back on, only to repeat the process over and over again.

I tilted my head as I reached out with my mind and ears, searching for Scott's familiar presence. I'd been so caught up in Stiles that I'd forgotten to keep tabs on the others.

"It's Scott," I mumbled in a panic, wincing as I listened to him scream along with the irritating hum of electricity.

"They're killing him," Malia added with a frown, clearly struggling to hear through the thick walls. She dropped to the floor, grimacing as she collapsed under the weight of the sounds.

The scream got louder and louder, until finally it crescendoed into a furious roar, Scott howling with unrestrained power.

"_Say the name, Scott."_

There was a pregnant pause, then Scott murmured, "_Kate_."

Malia glanced up and met my eyes at the same time I met hers. She looked nothing but bewildered, whereas I was certain I looked shocked to the core.

"He said, 'Kate'." Malia was the one to tell Stiles, and the kid, who was crouched at her side, sat back on his haunches. He took a moment to suck in a breath before he turned his gaze to me. I met his eyes, nodding my head ever so slightly in affirmation.

"That's impossible, that can't be what he said," he wanted to deny it as badly as I did.

"Why? Who's Kate?" Malia demanded confusedly.

"She's a hunter," he responded hoarsely. "An Argent."

"An Argent?" she repeated dumbly. "As in...?"

"Exactly_ as in_. She's Allison's aunt."

"Not to mention," I added, my tone as cold as ice, "we were there when she died."


	64. Migraine

_Behind my eyelids are islands of violence,_

_My mind's ship-wrecked,_

_This is the only land my mind could find,_

_I did not know it was such a violent island,_

_Full of tidal waves, suicidal crazed lions,_

_They're trying to eat me, blood running down their chin,_

_And I know that I can fight or I can let the lion win,_

_I begin to assemble what weapons I can find,_

_'Cause sometimes to stay alive you gotta kill your mind._

Migraine – Twenty One Pilots

* * *

The door opened with a creak, the sound reverberating around the tiny, damp room like a bullet. Stiles flinched at the noise, but I stared at the man standing in the doorway, his gun held in steady, unflinching hands.

"You're free to go," he said flatly, like a warden telling a legal prisoner they'd made bail, not like a psychotic hunter holding a bunch of teenage kids captive just because they had extra pointy teeth.

I was the first to stand, my hands held in front of me, prepared to dive in front of a bullet should anyone aim their weapon at Stiles; the only person present without the supernatural ability to heal. "Is that so?" I asked defensively, eyes flickering past him, trying to decide whether or not it was some kind of ruse to get ourselves killed.

"Get out before we change our minds," the hunter snapped, sneering in my direction, showing off his missing front tooth.

I turned around, seeing Malia and Stiles already standing, watching the exchange warily. "Go," I prompted, gesturing for them to leave first. I wanted to keep them in my sights and make sure I could see every person so much as breathing in Stiles' direction.

We filed from the stale little room. I was glad to leave the white, cracked tiles behind. They led us to the exit, a gun placed to the tail of my spine, and I instinctively touched the ring sitting on my middle finger, making sure it was securely in place just as we were roughly shoved out into the blinding sun, lest I go up in flames (again).

"What the actual hell is going on right now?" Stiles murmured to us, though I was sure he knew that neither of us had an accurate answer.

"Go," the biggest of the brutes spat, his accent thick with the word, gun held up to his lazy eye threateningly.

"Or what?" I countered instinctively.

"Are you seriously arguing with them about us being _released_?" Stiles hissed in my ear, and though the close contact made me tingle with pleasure, I flinched away with a wince.

"Force of habit," I explained, shooting the oaf a final warning snarl.

"Where's Scott?" Stiles asked, the only one of us to realise exactly what was missing. I cursed silently, berating myself for being a selfish bitch once again.

Malia sniffed, the sound loud as she glanced to our left. "Over there," she said stonily, jerking her head in the direction of Scott, who stood with a familiar looking woman under the shade of some slightly torn sails. They were murmuring back and forth, but I was too drained to bother listening in, figuring the were-coyote had it handled.

Lydia was standing by the Jeep, along with the fox, Kira. Both glanced over at me uneasily, but I ignored it with only minimal grimacing, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against the Jeep. Unthinking, I ran my fingertips down the side of the vehicle, skin sliding over smooth blue paint. In a weird way, it was like coming home.

I stepped back with a scowl before I could let those thoughts consume me.

Lydia looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't get the chance as Stiles stepped forwards, making his way over to Scott, who was heading towards us, hand held up to block the glare of the Mexican sun.

"So what now?"

"She thinks she knows where we can find Derek," the alpha responded with a helpless shrug.

"Is she gonna tell us where?" Malia asked cynically, and I had to bite my lip to hide a smirk.

"Actually, she's giving us a guide."

The perfectly timed sound of an engine rumbled across the square we were stood in, and we all spun around to peer over at the figure heading towards us on a pristine motorcycle, their long hair peeking out form under their helmet. They came to a stop, legs shooting out to steady their ride, and reached up to pull off the headgear, revealing a pretty but scarred face.

"You know her?" Stiles asked his best friend warily.

"Braeden," the werewolf answered with a nod.

"Who's Braeden?" Kira asked confusedly.

"She's a mercenary," Lydia replied, eyeing the newcomer through narrowed eyes.

"Right now, I'm the only one who's going to take you to La Iglesia," she responded flatly, turning her beady eyes onto Scott.

"The church?" Lydia continued confusedly.

"What's the Church?" Stiles spoke up.

"It's not a place you'll find God," Braeden said honestly, and I could only imagine the sort of shit-storm we were willingly walking into.

"Is it more than a day's ride?" I asked, deciding to move things along.

She looked over at me, eyes narrowed as she assessed me carefully. "We should make it there just before dark," she eventually said, her voice steady and apathetic. "If we leave now."

"And this is definitely where we'll find Derek?" Stiles cut in skeptically.

"I guarantee it."

There was a beat of silence, then the group leapt into action.

"Follow behind me," she continued, swinging a leg up and over the seat of her bike, settling down onto it with practised ease.

"Problem," Lydia spoke up, glancing over at the idle car warily.

"There are six of us, but only five seats in the Jeep."

As one, the group turned to stare at me, and I squashed down the sting of rejection I felt at the action.

"I didn't plan on sticking around anyway," I said flippantly, not sure whether or not that was a lie. I hadn't thought much beyond getting them out safely. _Was _I planning to stay with them? Was that even a good idea? I decided to roll with nonchalance, like the whole situation wasn't ripping me to shreds on the inside.

"You could run behind the car?" Scott suggested, ever the kind one of the group. "We might need you."

The words stirred something in me, and I had to fight to keep the emotions from appearing on my face. I grit my teeth and forced my expression to remain neutral, pointedly not looking at Stiles, who was staring at me from next to the Jeep.

"I doubt you'll need me," I said, glad it only sounded slightly bitter. I crossed my arms, looking away and tipping my head back to glance up at the sky like it was in any way intriguing.

"Where will you go?" Kira spoke up, and I was surprised she was the one to ask.

I shrugged, genuinely not knowing but scrambling to come up with an answer that didn't sound terribly pathetic. "I've got commitments here," I said, letting my eyes sweep the bustling square, the ground dusty and dry, the scent of hot sweat irritating my nose. "Suppose I'll stick around. Don't want the big bad Original on my back for not following through with a deal."

Kira and Malia looked confused, but the boys grimaced at the mention of Klaus, while Lydia frowned, considering me with those irritatingly intelligent eyes.

"Can you guys give us a minute, guys?" Stiles surprised me my speaking up, his words sending a wave of nauseas terror rolling through my stomach. I cringed as though expecting a physical blow, and the rest of the group turned and shuffled away to the other side of the Jeep, no doubt intending to pretend not to listen in. I faced Stiles, schooling my features into an expression of perfect nonchalance and awaiting the words that might either make me or break me.

He said nothing, his honey eyes flickering over my face like he'd forgotten what I looked like in the time we'd been away from one another.

"Don't worry," I said before he could say anything. I knew I was speaking out of fear, but I couldn't make myself stop. I had to protect myself, whatever the cost. "I won't be around to screw things up any more. You should go, save Derek and get home to your dad."

Stiles looked stricken by my words, but I couldn't bring myself to take the words back. Besides, being around him, without being _with _him, would just be too painful.

"What if I don't _want_ you to go?"

His words blindsided me, and I looked up from the dirty ground, meeting his eyes in surprise. He was wearing an expression I hadn't thought I'd see from him ever again, one I knew I didn't deserve to receive. I said nothing, leaving the ball in his court, as it were.

Like a door was slammed over his expression, the look of enraptured reverence disappeared, hidden behind a scowling, awkward mask.

"Scott's right," he said, the frown on his face audible. "You might come in handy. I like knowing we have an extra set of hands – especially ones as skilled as yours."

Unable to help it, my lips flickered up into a sly, amused smile. Stiles grinned back, and I had to wonder whether he'd made the suspicious comment on purpose. "You would know," mumbled Malia slyly from the other side of the Jeep, and I couldn't help but smile wider.

"I really do have an obligation to stay," I told Stiles, realising that I had been right about one thing, I really _did _have an agreement to keep with Klaus.

"Come with us, then come right back," he said, a air of desperation in his tone. "He won't even know you've gone."

"It isn't that simple," I said grievously, a pained grimace resting on my face. "If he finds out I broke the deal..."

"He won't find out," Stiles insisted, stepping closer. His scent swirled around in my head like smoke, and I leaned in, lusting for more than just his blood. "Please, just _come with us_."

I contemplated the request for one long, silent minute. Did I want to risk it? Did I want to go with him, knowing that every second I spent in his presence made it harder and harder not to give into temptation? But really, I knew I didn't have a choice. He asked, and I said yes, that was just how it worked.

I didn't think I could deny him anything, not even after the events of last month.

"Okay," I agreed blindly. "I'm in."

* * *

Unfortunately, being that we were low on space and I wasn't the most popular of group members, I drew the short straw and found myself squashed into the trunk of the Jeep, my legs folded awkwardly in an attempt to fit.

At least I was above average in the flexibility department. Point: vampirism.

"Couldn't I have just sat on Scott's lap?" I complained quietly, shifting uncomfortably, trying to dislodge a door handle from my lower back.

"No," Stiles said tonelessly from the driver's seat, and I scowled, shifting again and turning to glare out the back window, ignoring the scent of the girls' blood that wafted through from the seat in front of me. I'd considered hitching a ride on Braeden's bike, but something told me she wouldn't have agreed anyhow.

"Okay, I'll ask. Who's Kate Argent?" Malia questioned abruptly, and I grimaced as an onslaught of memories pelted me like rain. Blonde hair and steely eyes, a sharp jaw and blood that smelled like murder trickling down the smooth, tanned skin of a long neck, graceful neck. "I got a brief answer from the awkward couple, but I need more details," she continued pointedly.

The rest of us were silent, nobody quite knowing what to say – and I decided to let the odd comment about us slide. How did we _begin_ to explain Kate Argent? "Uh, I'd like to know too," Kira murmured softly from in front of me, hesitance in her sweet voice.

"Well, we were at her funeral," Stiles chirped with an air of frustrated bitterness. "So I'd like to know how she got out of a casket that was six feet underground."

"It isn't that special," I added with a grunt. "My kind do it all the time."

"She was never in it," Scott said before anyone else could comment. "The casket I mean," he clarified, turning to look at me with a blank stare.

There was another beat of silence, then Lydia said, "she was Allison's aunt," and the Jeep fell into a hesitant hush. The thought of Allison made me grimace, and I looked up towards the front, inexplicably meeting Stiles' gaze in the rearview mirror. His eyes were filled with pain and regret, and I returned the expression for a brief moment before the guilt overwhelmed me and I had to look away before he saw the shine to my eyes. "And a total sociopath," Lydia added, and I latched onto the comment like it was a life raft, focusing on the situation at hand and struggling not to let myself drown in the other negative emotions swirling around in my head.

"You don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to," Kira said graciously, and I could practically smell her sympathy.

"Um, _yes_ he _does_," Malia snapped, and I snorted from where I was squashed in the back, shifting again in an attempt to get comfortable.

"No, she's right," Scott said, voice hollow with unhealed grief. "You guys should know. You _need _to know."

"Okay, Kate was the one who set the fire that killed most of Derek's family," Stiles began, and I knew he was saying it so that Scott didn't have to. A wave of affection crashed through me, and I pressed my lips together against the sensation. I didn't have the right to feel that way. Not anymore.

"Some of them survived, like Cora and Peter," Scott added, probably determined to stay strong.

"A very angry Peter," Lydia interjected tartly.

"Yeah," Scott nodded, "he's the one who bit and turned me."

"He's the one who finally caught up to Kate and killed her."

"I still remember the scent of the blood," I said, sounding unnervingly wistful. "It was bitter, like all of the bitch in her personality had seeped into her veins."

I saw Malia's lips twitch upwards, and I smirked in her direction, pleased with the reaction. "We saw her buried," Stiles continued, oblivious to the exchange, and quite obviously ignoring my sly comment.

"We saw a casket, remember?" Scott corrected patiently. "She wasn't in it. The Calaveras heard that Kate had been killed by an alpha's claws. They wanted to make sure that she was really dead."

I pictured Kate's cold, lifeless corpse – though I supposed, in hindsight, perhaps it hadn't been so 'lifeless'after all. How could I have missed it? If I'd been paying attention, I would have caught it, and been able to snap her neck before she became an issue.

The thought ran through my mind without my permission, and suddenly I felt I might be sick. I turned around so I was facing the window, the disgusted grief in my eyes now impossible for anyone – particularly Stiles – to see.

I'd gotten used to thinking that way, my first option always being murder, because that was a vampire's inherent nature. But thinking that way now would only send me tumbling down the treacherous mountain of progress that I was once again attempting to scale.

"The body was healing, more and more as she got closer to the full moon. She was coming back," Scott continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil. I remained staring out the rear window, watching where the dirt road disappeared over the hill. "So they switched out the bodies, and they took her. If a hunter's bit, they have to take their own life before they change. The Calaveras treat the code like law. They make it their responsibility to enforce it."

"Good for her," Malia said to fill the pause, an apathetic shrug to her shoulders, reminding me starkly of myself. "I wouldn't do it either."

"Would you kill half a dozen people to get out?" Scott asked darkly. "Because that's what she did."

The Jeep once more filled with silence, the tension thick with the majority of us lost in our memories.

"So...Kate's a werewolf now?" Kira was the one to break the silence, leaning forwards as she spoke directly to Scott.

There was a lengthy pause, and I grimaced at the idea of facing Kate again. I wasn't in the mood to fight anyone, let alone a wolf. "I don't know," the alpha murmured sincerely. "There's this saying: _sometimes the shape you take reflects the person you are_."

"What kind of shape is 'sociopathic bitch'?" Lydia asked bitterly, and I couldn't help the impressed twitch of my lips. I opened my mouth to respond, only for a loud bang to echo through the Jeep as it jerked violently to one side, throwing my head into the back window with a sickening crack.

"God _dammit_," I cursed, reaching up to press a hand to my fractured skull. "What the bloody hell was that?" I demanded, my original accent bleeding through momentarily due to the concussion now clouding my mind.

"Everyone okay?" Stiles confirmed, barely waiting to hear an answer before he dove from the car, spilling out onto the dusty road and into the stifling heat.

"What happened?" Braeden was asking as she swung off her bike and began to march towards us. I grimaced, shoving my weight against the back door until it popped open, and I tripped out onto the road.

"I don't know, it felt like we hit something!" Stiles was saying, an edge of panic in his voice.

"Scott, we need to get there by night," the guide was saying impatiently, casting a wary look up at the setting sun. "It's too dangerous otherwise."

Scott winced in confusion, not knowing what to do. He spun around to look at Stiles, who only waved him away, knowing the dire situation they were in. "Go," he said firmly.

"Not without you," Scott argued gallantly.

"Someone needs to find Derek. We'll think of something, we always do. Just go," Stiles insisted stubbornly. "Take Jules with you, you'll need the backup."

Scott looked like he desperately wanted to argue. "The vampire stays," Braeden said from where she was now perched back on her bike.

"Excuse me?" I asked, a deadly edge to my voice. She stared back evenly. "Didn't take you for a racist," I added stonily.

"It isn't safe out here," she said shortly, apparently not in the mood to bicker. "They'll need all the protection they can get."

Although I longed to argue, the thought of leaving Stiles out here alone made me feel ill, so I curtly nodded my head, exchanging a serious look with Scott, making sure he concurred. With a nod, the teen wolf turned away, only for the kitsune to call out to him, rushing up to meet him and trading quiet words with one another.

"Great, now we're fucking stuck in the middle of the Goddamn desert," Malia was saying harshly, beginning to pace up and down the road beside the broken down Jeep. Stiles had popped the hood, peeking inside and assessing the inner workings of the vehicle with careful eyes. From behind us, Braeden's bike started up, and the pair of warriors sped away.

"Could be worse," I said flatly, my weight leant up against the side of the Jeep, unable to keep my eyes from straying too far from a lightly sweating Stiles.

"How could it possibly be worse?" Malia asked thornily.

"Could be human."

Stiles snorted, the sound irritated but begrudgingly amused. "Great," he huffed, not removing his eyes from the engine, the only human in the group. I longed to make a joking quip, maybe snuggle into his side and press my lips to his cheek – but that wasn't something that could happen...not now. Not after everything.

Malia continued to pace, kicking up dirt with her heavy footfalls. "Stiles," she said suddenly, "I don't think we hit something." I looked over to see her crouched by the wheel, a frown on her face as she reached under the car. "I think something hit _us_," she finished, producing a massive, dangerous looking spike and holding it up in the fading sunlight.

"What the _hell_ is that?" Stiles demanded, a tinge of fear to his voice that I would have had to have been deaf not to notice. He turned to me, expecting me to know.

"Looks Aztec," I responded, grasping at straws. Stiles shot me a flat, unimpressed look. "What do you want me to say?" I asked sharply, made uncomfortable by the stares surrounding me. "I don't have a fucking clue."

I plucked the spike that was _definitely _made of bone from his grip, holding it up and examining it more closely.

"What I think we need to focus on is fixing the Jeep," I said, reaching back into the Jeep to toss the spike threw the open window and onto the empty seat.

"But, this means we were sabotaged...we were _attacked_," Kira said, her voice shaking in worry, though I was gracious enough not to mention it.

"Stiles," I barked, taking the lead. "Work," I pointed sternly at the engine. The human didn't argue, merely fishing another of his tools out and diving back into the engine.

"Haven't you been to college?" Kira asked me suddenly, nervousness apparent in the way she twisted her hands together. "Can't you do something? Help Stiles fix the Jeep?"

I shot her a look of condescension. "I never studied mechanics," I said slowly, like I was explaining it to a child. "If I had, we'd be out of this mess already."

"Play nice," Stiles snapped distractedly from where he was elbows deep in the motor. With a jolt I was thrown back to months previous, when he'd say the same thing, only with a fond smile on his face as he dragged his lips over my bare shoulder in affection...

"Maybe we should just walk?" Lydia suggested, but I was no longer listening, brought out of my painful stupor by the way the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

We were not alone.

"Hey, I will never abandon this Jeep," Stiles growled quickly. I noticed Malia and Kira straighten with me, all of us staring out into the still, silent desert with wary eyes. "Do you understand me? _Never_!" he continued obliviously.

"Work faster, Stiles," Malia commanded, sensing it as well as I. "There is something out here with us."

"What is it?" Stiles asked, an edge of panic to his voice.

"Keep working, Stilinski," I muttered before he could get too distracted. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, but I didn't care to listen, instead turning to Malia, who continued to stare out at the dusty earth. "How've your skills been coming along?" I asked her quietly, keeping my eyes on the horizon, noting that the light was disappearing quickly – too quickly for comfort.

"Scott and Stiles have been helping me," she replied tensely, her body rigid. "I have better control now."

"Can you shift?"

"Not entirely."

"Can you fight?"

"Nobody to teach me on that front," she said, suddenly curt. "Not since you went AWOL." The words were quite plainly an accusation, and I felt the sting she'd been hoping to achieve. "Why'd you disappear, anyway?" she asked tightly.

I glanced over my shoulder. Stiles was muttering to Lydia about the engine, the both of them too caught up in their quiet bickering to pay our conversation any attention at all. Kira stood close to us, doing a terrible job of pretending she wasn't listening in.

"It was what was best," I answered her curtly, glad Stiles couldn't hear. I longed to look back at him, take in his profile and his intoxicating scent, but I didn't want to be caught staring.

"Well, that's bullshit," Malia deadpanned, and although I wasn't pleased with the comment, I couldn't help but admire her attitude.

"Maybe it is," I allowed, my tone curious. "I don't have answers," I said. "None that will please any of you, anyway."

"They don't give a shit about being pleased," she bit back, amber eyes still focused intently on the horizon. "They just want the truth." Her voice had raised, enough the it finally alerted Lydia and Stiles to our conversation. Their bickering died off, and the sounds of Stiles tinkering with the engine fell silent.

"The truth," I repeated hollowly, keeping my eyes on a dead tree in the distance.

"I know that's a big ask from a pathological lier," she responded harshly.

I could hear Stiles' heart pick up from behind me. Curious, I tilted my head, digging the toe of my boot into the sandy ground. What did I do to her? Sure, I'd been a large part in what had saved her, and sure, we'd had a sort of bond, an understanding from the first moment we met. But that wasn't enough to evoke this sort of reaction, was it?

"I guess...I was scared," I finally answered, deciding that – what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound. "I was terrified, more accurately. I don't cope with vulnerability well, and I was more vulnerable than I could ever remember being. So, I did what I always do when the going gets tough, and I ran." I paused, knowing what else I wanted to say but wondering if I was strong enough to say it. Stiles' heart pounded furiously from behind me, giving me all the prompting I needed. "I regret it, but now it's done," I said, tilting my chin up a fraction and moving my gaze to the sun which had just slipped below the horizon, "so let's focus on getting out of this hell hole alive, yeah?"

There was a long, drawn out silence in which I wasn't sure what my companion's reactions would be. I longed to look back and glance at Stiles, but I couldn't force my head to move, instead staring out at the rapidly darkening desert.

A metallic rattling filled the silent air, and a moment later Stiles murmured, "I need light. Hold this?" A beat later the light of a flashlight illuminated the space between us.

Kira began to talk to Lydia about something or rather, more nervous chatter than anything else, but it got the focus off of me, so I was content to remain on vigilant watch, my teeth ground together stubbornly.

Malia stepped up beside me, her tense shoulders never relaxing. "He was pissed," the were-coyote said from the corner of her mouth, this time her voice low enough not to attract attention. There was a dull throb in my heart, like someone had shoved a dagger through it. "Then he was devastated...then he was pissed again...it was hard to keep up with, actually," she murmured quietly. "All I know is I hate you for doing that to him."

There was a heartfelt edge to her words that made me bite my tongue. Had something happened between them in the month I was gone?

"Are you two..." I trailed off, not sure where that sentence was meant to end – not knowing if I even wanted to hear the answer.

Malia snorted like I'd made a joke. She didn't give me a reply, her heart steadily beating in her chest, keeping a careful, watchful eye on the horizon. I wondered whether that was an answer in and of itself, and I felt like somebody had deep-fried my heart. My insides crackled unpleasantly and I had the strongest urge to either throw up or scream.

"Lydia, can you please just hold the flashlight still?" Stiles was complaining from behind us, and the sound of his voice made my eyes sting. "It's really hard to see when you keep shaking it like that."

I refused to go to that place, so I bit the inside of my cheek until my eyes stopped stinging, deciding instead to focus my attention on the hills, expanding my senses as I monitored for any hint of an oncoming attack.

"I'm shaking it like this because we're in the middle of _nowhere_ with your broken-down Jeep about to be attacked by yet _another_ razor-clawed monster," the redhead hissed furiously, and despite everything my lips twitched up in an amused smirk, entertained by her fire. "And I'm terrified," she finished in a rather small voice, and I felt a flash of sympathy for the poor banshee.

"Well just be slightly less terrified," Stiles snapped callously before they continued to bicker, but I wasn't paying attention, feeling the eyes of something on us. I said nothing, not wanting to alarm anyone. My hands balled into fists, and my eyes flooded with blood, sweeping the desert, trying to pinpoint the origin of the stare.

"Anything?" Kira asked Malia and I cautiously.

"It's too hard to see," the were-coyote bit out, frustrated with herself. "We should have brought another flashlight."

"What about you, Jules?"

The kitsune hadn't worked her way up to calling me by the nickname, but I wasn't about to argue that right now – there were more important things to be worrying about. "Something's out there," I murmured back from around my fangs. "Watching us," I added, deciding there was no use sugarcoating it.

"Great," Kira mumbled with a sigh.

I was doing another quick sweep when my eyes finally caught sight of something in the distance. "Oh fuck," I hissed, and Malia's heart jumped even though her demeanour remained calm. "Stay here," I commanded the were-coyote and kitsune, taking a step into the darkness.

"_Juliet_!" Stiles exclaimed from behind me, his voice carrying a note of panic. "Malia!"

The thing, whatever it was, was _fast_. It had disappeared by the time I got to it, and I could hear the sound of Malia and Kira's heavy footsteps hitting the ground from behind me, albeit at a much slower pace. I didn't have time to stop to coddle them – if they wanted to run into danger they could be my fucking guest. Right now, I had to eliminate the threat to Stiles.

From the deathly, animalistic scent it left in it's wake, I could tell it was headed into the rocks up ahead. I sped up, running like I hadn't in weeks, pushing myself to the limit and catching up to it as quickly as I possibly could.

I didn't have time to assess what it was, just falling into attack mode and leaping at it, tackling it to the ground with a snarl. It let out a hiss and threw it's weight at me. It was fucking strong, forcing me to the ground. My head connected with a sharp rock, and I felt my skin split open, cool blood beginning to pour down my face.

I grunted at the collision, knowing I'd just gained my second concussion of the night.

"Jules!" Malia had caught up to me, and I could hear her barrelling closer at her top speed.

"Stay back!" I yelled as the thing lifted an arm, massive claws protruding from a bear-like hand. Malia was stupid and foolhardy, much like myself, and she dove at it. The scent of shifter blood filled the dusty air, and Malia let out a sharp cry.

I had two options: I could continue to attack, chase it off or kill it (if possible), or I could abandon the fight and look after Malia. I knew which one she'd have rathered me do, but I couldn't make myself do the logical thing, not when I knew it was the _wrong _thing to do.

I had to be a better person, for myself if not for anyone else.

The thing, whatever it was, saw that I had stopped my advance, turning and hightailing it out of there. I turned my attention to Malia.

"You alright, teen coyote?" I asked, ignoring my own throbbing skull and reaching for her bloodied side.

"Yeah," she hissed, pressing a hand over her wound. "You're not getting the urge to eat me, right?" she asked suddenly, surprising me with the question.

Despite the less than amusing circumstances, I had to snicker in amusement. "Honey, you reek of wet dog," I told her through a smirk. She attempted a smirk in response, but it just came out as more of a grimace as her injury no doubt began to sting.

I could hear heavy breathing from the other side of the rock formation along with the sharp sound of Kira's katana slicing through the cool night air.

"C'mon," I prompted Malia, "let's get back to the others before they get worried and do something stupid, like come after us."

She nodded, still wincing over her wound. We headed back towards the Jeep, coming across Kira as I'd known we would, the poor girl just about taking our heads off with her sword. "It's us!" Malia hissed, flinching away from the blade and shooting me a glance of tired exasperation.

"What's happening?" Kira demanded frantically. "What's out there?"

"Don't know," Malia said back in a hushed voice. "But it is big and fast." I remained facing the shadows, catlike eyes cutting through the dark like it was nothing. "And it cuts deep," she added, drawing attention to her wound.

Kira's already thundering heart kicked up a notch, but before she could say anything the unmistakeable sound of an engine starting up cut through the still night air.

"Let's go," I told them, spinning back around to begin to herd them in the direction of the Jeep.

Stiles was sitting behind the wheel, Lydia standing by his open door, staring out into the darkness with an anxious look on her pretty face. When we appeared from the shadows Stiles just about tumbled out of the Jeep, tripping over nothing in his haste to reach us.

"Oh, God," he retched slightly at the sight of the blood coating half my face.

"Don't worry," I assured him quickly, for one brief moment remembering the last time he'd seen me covered in blood. "It's mine."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!" he exclaimed furiously, clearly distraught. I winced, genuinely having thought that it would. "Get in the car," he snapped anxiously, eyes leaving mine to trail over Malia and Kira, who both scrambled to get into the car. As though it were some unspoken decision, all the other girls took places in the back, leaving the passenger seat the only available option for me to take.

The Jeep was still running, and he slipped back into place, pulling out of park and beginning down the road as quickly as he safely could.

We travelled in silence for a long few minutes, the lack of sound only making everybody more anxious. I could hear Stiles' heart thundering away in his chest, and a small part of me was pleased I could still evoke such a strong reaction from him in any way. "What the _hell _were you _thinking_?" Stiles demanded abruptly, pulling me from my thoughts sharply.

I blinked in surprise, realising my hand had drifted up so my fingers could prod at my now-healed wound. I wiped at the blood there self-consciously. "What was I meant to do? Sit there and let it stare at us?" I asked, trying to sound indignant but only sounding sadly pathetic.

"I'll tell you what you _aren't _meant to do," he growled, grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. "You _aren't _meant to go charging after it, _alone_, in the middle of the Goddamn night!"

"I had backup," I defended my actions, disgruntled.

"A kitsune with two months of experience and a were-coyote who's only been human for half of that?" he hissed back, but I glared back defiantly. "You're reckless," he said the words like they were an insult, and I couldn't help but rear back like he'd hit me, feeling strangely chastised. "And _you_!" he tossed a look over his shoulder at Malia, who looked shocked to have been called out. "Please, don't _ever _do that again!"

"What?" she demanded indignantly.

"I thought you just took off," he replied, losing some of his anger, which bemused me. "I thought you were running."

"I _was_ running," she said impatiently, confused.

"No, like, I thought you were _leaving._"

There was a long, pregnant pause. "I wouldn't leave without you," Malia finally said, her voice innocently honest. I felt my heart squeeze as though it were still alive, quickly snapping my head around to the window, staring out into the inky blackness with a blank expression.

"Really?" Stiles sounded bemused.

"I would never leave without you." There was another pregnant pause, nobody quite knowing what to say, probably because of me. Just another reason I had to get the hell out of here. "Them, I would leave," Malia added casually, and the tension broke.

"It's progress," Stiles murmured, but he sounded distracted. I felt his eyes on me, but I stubbornly refused to look, not knowing what he'd see in my gaze. Was I hurt? Was I betrayed? I didn't know, I couldn't feel passed the buzzing numbness that had filled my body. They clearly had a connection, though to what extent, I couldn't tell.

The silence that followed was unbearable, and I had the inexplicable urge to slam my head against the glass of the window I was staring out of.

"That doesn't look so good," Lydia was the first to speak, but I didn't move my vacant stare from the dark horizon.

"It's okay," Malia said casually, and I knew they must have been referring to the were-coyote's wound. The smell of her blood wafted around the car, and though it wasn't in any way appetising, it made my stomach twist with hunger.

"Are you sure?" Kira questioned warily. "It looks deep."

"Yeah, I can feel it healing," she responded curtly.

"You didn't see anything?" Lydia asked, and I thought back to the encounter. I'd been a little preoccupied with keeping myself in one piece, and I had no idea what it had been, but there was one thing I had noticed.

"It wore an animal skull as a mask," I told them flatly, trying to remember more, but my memory was fuzzy after the blow to the head.

"That sounds creepy," Lydia murmured, and I hummed in agreement.

"It had a strong scent, though," Malia picked up, sounding thoughtful.

"Like what?" Stiles questioned.

"Like death."

"Are you sure you weren't picking up Juliet's scent?" he asked, and I finally looked away from the window to shoot him an annoyed scowl.

"This was different," she told him. "This was stronger. More potent."

"Whatever it was," I said, my voice stale. "It was strong and it was fast." There was a beat. "Do you even know where you're going?" I asked Stiles, noticing that he was driving rather confidently towards the East.

"There's only one road," he replied defensively. "How could I possibly be screwing it up?"

I decided it was best not to respond. The town wasn't far, and the others seemed, like me, content to travel in silence. Stiles' heart continued to race, so much so that I wondered whether he was alright. He tossed me a look every now and again, but I expertly avoided his gaze, keeping my eyes fixed on the black desert.

Roughly fifteen minutes later we had arrived, the silence getting more tense with every moment it stretched on. Thankfully the restless energy filling the car broke when the Jeep's headlights hit Scott and Braeden, both climbing from the church ruins, a body held between them.

We spilled from the car, rushing to meet them in the glow from the Jeep.'s headlights

I came to an abrupt stop before I reached them, my eyes shooting open wide as I took in the boy they were holding up.

"Is that him?" Malia asked, never having met Derek before now. My eyebrows shot up to my hairline, and I stared at the boy in shock. "Is that Derek?"

"Uh, sort of," Stiles replied hesitantly, and with a quiet groan the boy lifted his head, revealing himself to be Derek Hale – give or take a decade or so. He stared at us through clouded, confused green eyes, before they rolled back into his head and he went limp. His heart continued to beat steadily from within his chest, so that was something. "How the _hell_ is this possible?"Stiles demanded in shock.

"Dark magic, ancient ritual, demon deal," I murmured back flatly. "Take your pick."

"It isn't safe out here," Braeden said sharply, dark eyes scanning the shadows suspiciously. "You need to leave. Now."

"Get him in the car," Scott instructed, and the others all rushed to do as they were told. I remained back, watching everything with careful eyes. Braeden remained by me, a wary sort of look on her face as we stared at the others feeding baby-Derek into the backseat of the Jeep.

"What're your plans?" I asked her quietly.

She threw her shotgun over her shoulder, holding it there like it were a staff. "I was paid to kill something," she said darkly, scanning the darkness again like she'd suddenly find what she was looking for. "I can't leave until it's done."

"Need a hand?" I offered lightly, though my stomach may as well have been filled with lead.

"From a vampire?" she asked with a scowl. "Definitely not."

"Don't be racist," I said for the second time that night, but she didn't react. "I've got night vision and time to kill," I told her shortly. "You could use me." She didn't say anything, peering back at me through narrowed eyes, so I shot her a cheeky smile which only made her glare intensify.

"Come on, Jules!" Stiles called from where he was stood by the driver's side door. The others were all piled in the car, squished together thanks to the extra body. "We've gotta go."

The lead in my stomach seemed to triple in weight, and I grimaced. I glanced over at Braeden, who looked like the last thing she wanted to do was spend more time with me, but she gave a curt nod and spun around, marching back towards the church.

I sighed, squaring my shoulders and crossing the distance between Stiles and I. My mouth was open before I'd chosen words to say, as a result no sound came out, so I promptly shut it again.

Pain glittered in the human's eyes. "You're not coming with us," he said. It wasn't a question.

"I have a debt to honour," I said quietly, creating the illusion of privacy, as though every supernatural piled into the Jeep couldn't hear what we were saying anyway. I grit my teeth against the predictable onslaught of pain at my own words. "I can't just run back to Beacon Hills with you," I told him regretfully. "No matter how much I might want to," I added quietly, my eyes focused on the dusty ground, not wanting him to see the honesty in my gaze.

"I want you to."

My eyes burned, and I bit down on my tongue until the sting disappeared. His heart raced, the sound nervous and familiar. I wanted to curl into him, press my ear to his chest and feel it beat under his skin, so very much alive.

"You're making the wrong choice," he said as strongly as he could manage.

"I know," I replied with a nod of pained acceptance. "But this is the way it has to be. For both of our sakes."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

I laughed, but the sound was borderline hysterical. "I'm not saying I'll never come back," I told him in a whisper, looking up from the ground and meeting his shining caramel eyes. "I'm just saying not right now." He nodded, and my insides twinged as I caught the wet sheen to his gaze.

"I hate goodbyes," he said thickly, hands balled into fists.

"How do you feel about 'see you laters'?"

He chuckled, the sound broken. He shut his eyes, squeezing them tightly before opening them and meeting my gaze. "If you don't show up soon, I'll come looking," he swore suddenly. He wouldn't be able to find me if I didn't want to be found, but the sentiment was sweet.

"I don't doubt you will."

"Juliet!" Braeden prompted me impatiently, but I didn't glance back.

"I'll see you later, Stiles," I said sincerely, the words hurting like a bitch.

His jaw twitched, and he looked to be struggling to keep control of himself. "I'll see you later, Jules."

I longed to close the gap between us and press my lips to his, but I wasn't sure that could ever happen again. With a look of agony in his wonderful eyes, Stiles forced himself to spin around and march back to the Jeep, yanking open the door and sliding into the driver's seat, staring the engine and sharply swinging the car around.

And if I thought facing him had been bad, it was _nothing_ compared to watching him drive away.

* * *

**A/N: Hello to all my beautiful, wonderful readers. I know it's been a long time; I was experiencing some personal crises, and have also been putting a lot of my time and energy into other projects which will, eventually, make their way to you. But now I'm back with renewed passion and vigour, ready to make you cry, laugh, and then cry again.**

**I hope you liked this chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts. I know things seem bleak, but have hope that Jules and Stiles will always find their way back to each other, no matter the circumstance. **

**I love you all, let me know what you want to see from Season 4! xx**


	65. I Am Machine

_I wish I knew what it was like_

_To care enough to carry on_

_I wish I knew what it was like_

_To find a place where I belong, but_

_I am machine_

_I never sleep_

_I keep my eyes wide open_

_A part of me_

_Wishes I could just feel something_

_I never sleep_

_Until I fix what's broken_

_A part of me_

_Wishes I could just feel something_

I Am Machine – Three Days Grace

* * *

The sun beat down on my exposed skin like the flames of a fire. I touched my fingers to the heavy, spelled ring sitting on my finger, the only thing between me and certain death. I was getting antsy, and it had only been twelve hours since Stiles and the others had left.

The moment they'd driven away, I'd felt like somebody had carved out my heart with a dull knife, placed it in Stiles' lap and forced me to watch as they took it with them, disappearing into the desert.

Those were my _friends_, quite possibly the only _real_ ones I'd ever had. The only ones I wanted, at any rate. I missed them – and perhaps my actions weren't as unforgivable to them as they were to me. I knew I'd forever regret it if I didn't find out.

Besides, I couldn't go another month without hearing Stiles' voice as he said my name.

I'd left the town a few hours after with Braeden, the woman deciding to give up and come to try another time, preferably in daylight. I agreed, then it was a long and strangely intimate ride back to the Calaveras' hideout, where she dropped me off outside and wandered in to complete her business with the stern lady hunter who ran the place.

Now I was stationed in the alley it had all began in, leaned up against the wall, an eye on the door across the courtyard, silent and waiting for something to happen. I was sure I was going to slowly go insane. There was no way I could sit there any longer, especially without knowing exactly what it was that I was looking for.

I was seriously considering ditching, getting the hell outta dodge and making a break for Beacon Hills; the only thing stopping me was fear.

If Klaus found out I hadn't held up my end of the deal, he'd stalk me down out of pettiness and drive a stake through my heart with a smile. So, although agitated and impatient, I waited and waited, leaned up against the wall and puffing on the cigar I'd swindled out of a passing local.

I was weighing my options, ultimately deciding that I liked my head attached to my body enough to put up with it and stay, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled my lips from the cigar, frowning in confusion while my heart leapt with hope as I yanked it from my shorts. The only person who had rung me since leaving Beacon Hills had been Stiles, and I hoped more than anything it was him.

Unfortunately the screen proclaimed it was an unknown number, and though I was wary it would be somebody trying to sell me something, I answered it anyway, a grimace at home on my lips. "Yes?" I snapped into the phone, impatient before they'd even begun.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Klaus' lilting voice asked through the phone, and I grimaced more severely. I said nothing, remaining silent and waiting for him to tell me what the fuck it was he wanted this time. "How is it going down there?" he asked sweetly, his accent smooth and familiar.

"Brilliant," I replied with the utmost sarcasm, my own accent giving way as I registered his. "Just sitting in an alleyway, smoking a cigar and doing absolutely fucking nothing but stare at a doorway."

"Well, I have good news and bad news."

Wary, I paused. "Out with it, then," I finally murmured, my shoulders tense, my stolen cigar hanging from my fingertips, forgotten.

"The good news is that the surveillance is over, and I only need one small thing from you before you can run along back to your precious little human pet," he drawled casually.

"And what's the bad news?" I prompted, ignoring his jab.

"The bad news is that you'll be lucky to survive the task I'm about to give you." I was silent, teeth grinding together unhappily. "Interested?" he questioned, and I could hear the stupid fucking smirk in his voice.

I snorted, the sound derisive. "Do I have a choice?" I asked bitterly.

"Absolutely none whatsoever," he told me cheerfully.

"Then I'd be delighted," I ground out through a clenched jaw, glaring out into the street so ferociously that a passing pedestrian gave a strangled yelp of fear.

"Wonderful," Klaus was still smirking, I could tell, and I wished we were in the same county so I could smack that bloody irritating expression off his bloody irritating face.

"What's the job?" I asked quickly, wanting to get the task over and done with and be back on my way to Beacon Hills. Maybe what I longed to have with Stiles was an impossibility, and while being around him without being _with _him was probably going to be the worst kind of torture – it was the kind I craved.

"I want you to sneak into the holding cell in the back of the Calaveras' compound; there, they're holding an acquaintance of mine captive."

"You want me instigate a prison break?" I asked, deadpan.

"No," he sounded less than pleased by my deduction. "I want you to find him, _kill_ him, empty his pockets and hold onto the contents until I drop by to pick them up."

I blinked in surprise, saying nothing for a long moment. "You want me to _kill_ a guy?" I hissed, spinning around so I was facing the dirty wall, glaring at the concrete like it had somehow wronged me. "That was _not _part of the deal."

"It was in the fine print," he said, merely a metaphor, considering there was no print at all to speak of.

"You can't expect me to-"

"This is exactly what I expect you to do," he spoke darkly, his voice taking on a low, powerful quality that made my skin tingle, and not in the fun way. "He's only a vampire, anyway," he added callously. "Does it even count as murder if the victim is already dead?"

"Yes," I bit out, and Klaus chuckled on the other end of the line. I sighed, reaching up to rub at my brow where I was beginning to feel an ache. I wished I had options, but the truth was that I didn't. I didn't have a choice, it was kill or be killed – however indirect. "Who's the mark?" I finally asked, muscles coiled like I was preparing for a strike.

"Splendid," Klaus chirped, like he were commenting on the state of my rose bushes. "His name hardly matters, just look for the guy without a heartbeat."

"Who knows how many vamps they have stashed back there for safe keeping?" I hissed back, glancing over my shoulder at the door where the two stocky fellows stood guard, scanning the crowd with beady eyes.

"He's got long red hair and a bear tooth necklace," the Original Hybrid sounded irritated that he had to specify. "Couldn't possibly miss him."

"How old?"

"Would you like me to come and hold your hand while you do it?" he asked sarcastically, and I ground my teeth together in frustration. "Just get it done."

"And what am I looking for on his person?" I questioned, ignoring his jab once more and focusing on the task.

"It's a small rock of lapis lazuli."

"Lapis lazuli?" I repeated, instinctively glancing down at my daylight ring, running my thumb over the glittering blue stone. The only use I could think of for the expensive stone was the rings that kept our kind from burning in the sun. But surely he could source others, why on Earth would he need this particular one? And why did he need to _kill_ to get it?

"Don't ask questions," he snapped severely, and I got the feeling poking around for clues would be dangerous to my wellbeing.

I turned, eyeing the door again, remembering how well it had gone last time I'd tried to force my way in. "How do you propose I handle this?" I asked, tilting my head as I assessed the situation. "This place is like Fort Knox for paranoid racists."

"That's your problem," he told me shortly, and I exhaled in frustration at how little help he was. He chuckled, the sound anything but comforting. "So, what do you say, Juliet Adams?" he asked through a delicate sneer. "Are you in the mood for suicide mission?"

I bit down into the flesh of my tongue, glancing up at the sky where the sun was beginning to climb it's way towards the top of the sky. The sooner I got it done, the sooner I could get the hell outta dodge.

"I'll call you when it's done."

With that I hung up, trying not to panic over the fact that I had just hung up on an _Original_, pocketing my phone and turning to lean against the wall, assessing my options for entry. I could enter through the front, guns (or _fangs_) blazing; this would result in a very high death toll, myself most likely included.

No, this operation needed stealth.

As much as I hated to admit it, the Calaveras were smart, they'd see right through whatever shitty disguise I pulled together – besides, they wouldn't be careless enough to feed me an invitation under _any_ circumstances.

I dropped the long since forgotten cigar to the ground, stomping on it with my foot before turning and shedding my jacket, not wanting the crinkling material to give me away.

The compound was large, incredibly so. It spread to several buildings, but it was easy to tell which were included, the stench of blood drifted from each one like a morbid beacon dragging me in. I wondered if it was done that way to attract my kind, it was certainly a clever concept.

Like I said: smart.

I listened intently, absently considering that I _definitely_ should have fed before attempting such a feat, but ultimately deciding against refuelling. My priority was getting in and out. I needed stealth, not strength. Once I located the building with the least inhabitants, I knew I'd found my in.

A small man stood guarding the back door, a beanie sitting haphazardly on his head and a gun that looked too big for his skinny little arms to handle in his grip.

I pondered my approach, ultimately decided force was the way to go.

He was young and thin, and he seemed distracted by the cloud formations above us as I appeared behind him, slipping one arm around him and yanking him backwards so he was abruptly pressed against the wall, my arms trapping him like a cage.

He gasped, giving out a startled yelp.

"What-what're you d-doing?" the poor bloke stuttered in accented English, gun laying uselessly in his hand as he blinked up at me with terrified brown eyes. I'd picked the single weakest guy in the whole of the Calaveras camp – somebody above must have been helping me out.

"I've positioned us so, to everybody passing by, we look like nothing but a pair of enraptured lovers stealing a moment to ourselves," I purred in his ear. He shuddered, and I knew my scent was intoxicating, making him want to eat me, though perhaps not quite in the same way _I_ wanted to eat _him_.

I flashed my true eyes, fear and dread appearing in his gaze as he sucked in a sharp breath.

"What do you w-want?" he stammered, heart slamming against his ribcage so violently I wondered whether there was a chance of cardiac arrest. Blood pumped through his jugular, I could see it surging under the skin. Partly to satisfy my urges and partly to terrify the poor sod, I leant in, brushing my nose against his thumping pulse point.

His heartbeat kicked up.

"I want a lot of things," I told him casually, letting my tongue dart out to swipe at his salty skin. He whimpered, flinching away from me in terror. "I want a car of my own," I murmured conversationally, reaching in to nip at his jugular, taking extra care not to break the skin. "I want all the blood I could possibly drink delivered to my front door." He flinched violently, throwing himself against my arms locked around him like a cage. "I want to throw my ex boyfriend against a wall and have my way with him until he can't do anything but scream my name," I added impishly, finally pulling back and meeting the kid's gaze, noting that he was wincing as sweat dripped down his chocolate skin into his muddy eyes. "But most of all? I want you to tell me where they're keeping the prisoners."

He groaned, the sound petrified.

"Come on," I nudged him enticingly. "I'm not asking for much," I breathed teasingly. "I'll make it worth your while..." I trailed off suggestively, staring into his eyes with my full power of persuasion, all the while knowing the vervain in his system would prevent my trick from working.

The poor guy swallowed, trying to inch away from me again. "I-I can't..." he mumbled unconvincingly, fear still glinting in his eyes.

I exhaled sharply, displeased. "Okay kid," I said harshly, reaching out and grabbing his gun, ripping it from his hands with laughable ease, listening as he whimpered. "But when this all turns to shit, remember that I _tried _to do things the fun way," I said, and he looked about ready to burst into tears.

I tossed the gun onto the dusty ground, and it landed with a thump a good few feet away, well out of his reach. My hand snapped up, fingers curling around his throat in an all too familiar way. The kid whimpered, terrified out of his mind. I felt a flash of guilt, but I couldn't let myself fall into that – I had a debt to square.

"Tell me where the prisoners are kept, and I'll let you live; refuse me, and I'll storm the place with you as a human shield. Something tells me your trigger-happy friends in there won't hesitate to shoot through you in an attempt to get to me."

I had, of course, no intention of harming him. He was human, and young, and relatively innocent. I was here to kill one person and one person only; besides, it was a vampire, it wasn't like there was anyway _he _was going to be innocent.

The young hunter groaned again, eyes beginning to turn red from the grip I had on his throat. I felt a flare of hunger as I felt his pulse beat under my hand, but I suppressed the urge, telling myself he'd be full of vervain anyway – I'd get a chance to feed later, once I was on my way back to Beacon Hills.

"Where do they keep the prisoners?" I asked slowly, annunciating my words carefully, tightening my hold for a beat before relaxing it enough to let him speak.

"Building four," he choked out, tears in his terrified eyes.

Impatient, I tightened my hold again. "And how do I _get _to buildingfour?" I asked sharply, glancing over my shoulder and scanning the area, glad we were around the back, only a few people milling about, none of them blinking an eye at the display of violence happening before them. Being so close to the Calaveras' hideout, they probably saw this kind of thing all the time.

"Behind me," he coughed, reaching up to try to pull at my hand desperately, and not wanting to give the guy brain damage, I relaxed my hold slightly. "Through, then-then to the left. Behind," he broke off with a gasp for breath, "behind the door on the right."

"Thank you, sweetie," I murmured, relinquishing my hold on his neck. He sucked in air, his heart hammering away in his chest. "Sorry about this," I added, and his eyes flew open wide in fear. Without blinking I grasped the lapels of his shirt, slamming him into the concrete wall behind him. His head connected with a satisfying crack and he fell to the floor, unconscious but very much alive.

I glanced over my shoulder, checking again that nobody was paying any attention before I reached over and turned to handle to the door. It cracked open with a tiny groan, and cautiously I pushed a hand against the barrier, relieved when my fingers passed through with ease.

The buildings were separate, but all connected with makeshift halls. There was an equal chance of whether or not I'd have been able to get in – after all, I'd gotten the invitation from that psychopathic she-devil the other day, but it was in another area of the compound.

Thankfully the stars were in my favour, and with a satisfied smirk I stepped into the dark hallway, letting the door click shut behind me as my eyes seamlessly adjusted to the low light.

There wasn't anybody in the area but a few guards a hall or so over, so it was relatively simple to creep through the halls unnoticed. I spied a few security cameras along the way, so I kept myself sharp, prepared to fight my way out should reinforcements come charging down the hall.

Like the kid had said, I turned left, making my way through the compound. It was almost too easy, but I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I was just grateful I was still breathing as I tried the door to the right as told.

It opened up into a room, much like that of a police precinct, with four cells sitting along the far wall. Two were occupied, one by a creature I placed as a djinn, the other a vampire with red hair and a heavy, ostentatious bear tooth necklace sitting around his neck.

"Who're you?" the other person in the room, a guard, snapped. He held his gun up warily.

"I'm here for the prisoner," I said in an attempt to hoodwink him, but something about my answer had him lifting his gun and aiming it at my chest.

"Stay back," he barked, reaching for his old-fashioned radio with his free hand. I was impatient and not in the mood, so with him momentarily distracted by his device, I slipped one of my many daggers free from it's place at my hip, throwing it in a casual move. It cut through the air with a soft tinging sound, a beat later landing in the guy's hand, piercing through his palm. He cried out in agony as he fired his gun.

The bullets landed in my stomach, but they weren't wooden, so it was relatively painless. They slowed me down some, but I was still able to make it to him, yanking the weapon from his grasp and slamming the butt of the gun into his chin, knocking him unconscious.

The djinn snarled at me, coming up to the bars but not touching them, staring at me through catlike eyes.

The vampire was clapping politely, like a one might do after a spectacular opera performance. "Very impressive," the guy purred, but I ignored him as I reached down to the unconscious guard, rifling over him person, looking for a set of keys. I found them attached to him belt, and was quick to leap up to the bars, sliding the keys into the lock, trying to find the right one. "Come to spring me?" he asked, and I noticed he had an Australian accent.

"Something like that," I murmured, not meeting his eyes as I listened intently out to the hall, waiting for the sound of those reinforcements that I had no doubt were on their way. The bullets lodged in my abdomen were beginning to ache, the feeling uncomfortable as I worked, but I could do nothing but ignore it.

Finally I got the right key, and as I pressed a hand to the metal bars to open them, the contact sent agony through my skin.

"Yeah," the Australian vampire murmured through an ugly smirk. "They're coated in vervain." I said nothing, stepping fully inside the cell, leaving the door cracked open. "Why're you doing this?"

"I need something from you," I told him flatly.

"What might that be?" he questioned innocently, but there was spark in his eyes that told me he knew exactly what I was there for.

"Hand it over," I demanded, holding out a hand. The vampire crossed him arms casually.

"Why would I do that?" he asked lightly.

"Because it just might be the only way either of us get out of this alive," I lied with ease.

He grinned, revealing a series of missing teeth, which was odd – I'd never met a vampire with missing teeth before. "Sorry, darl'," he said silkily. "Ya gonna have to kill me for it."

The sound of heavy footfalls met my ears, and with a grimace I realised the cavalry was on their way. The ginger vampire's head cocked to the side, and I knew he'd heard what I had.

"Help me fight my way out of here, and I'll let you live," I promised him, not sure if that was even something I could actually follow through with.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked, and I began to get desperate, the hunters now only a corridor away.

"Because your only other choice is death," I said, chin tilted up as I waited. He ginned again, a mischievous glint to his eyes.

The door burst open, and his smile widened. "Can't argue with that," he leered, before darting around me and throwing himself at one of the three hunters that had spilled into the room.

I wasted no time, throwing an elbow into the face of an older man, his hair grey and thin. He cried out but recovered quickly, producing a stake from his belt. "Fucking hell," I cursed, realising this wasn't going to be as much of a walk in the park as I'd hoped.

I ducked under the hunter's lunge, landing a punch to his stomach hard enough to severely bruise his liver. He grunted in pain, swinging at me again. The sharp end of the stake grazed my arm, the wood like fire as it sliced through my skin. I hissed, grabbing the stake from his hand in a move too quick for him to see and slamming it down on his head. It didn't knock him unconscious as I'd hoped, but he was momentarily dazed by the blow.

I'd forgotten about the third guy, and he grabbed me around the middle, yanking me off his buddy and pressing the barrel of a gun to my temple. That wasn't going to kill me, but it would sure as hell hurt. Yanking free one of my many daggers, I twisted in his grip faster than he could pull the trigger, slicing him clean across the face.

I could have killed him easily, but Scott's words from earlier resonated in my head.

_Would you kill half a dozen people to get out_?

He'd asked the question with disgust, and at the time it had meant little, but now I was suddenly pushed into Kate Argent's exact position. My only option seemed to be murder, how the hell else was I meant to make it out alive?

The sounds of the other vampire fighting filled my ears, and in the moment I was dangerously distracted, the hunter I was attacking had fired his gun. This time it _was _a wooden bullet, and it pierced my shoulder. I cried out in pain, whirling around to slam my fist into his cheek. The sound of cracking bone filled the room, and I sneered with dark pleasure.

A scream suddenly filled the room, the sound cutting off in a wet gurgle, and I knew the other guard was being drained by my guiltless companion. I didn't look back, not even when my skin began to tingle and my throat burned with thirst. The smell was intoxicating, but I didn't let it distract me too much, focusing on slamming the heel of my hand into the hunter's nose, hearing it crunch with satisfaction.

He fell to the floor, grasping his broken appendage in agony, blood pouring from his face. I longed to dip my fingers in it, tasting the delicious liquid, but I was more focused on staying alive. There was another wet cry, and I whirled around to see the third and final hunter crumple to the ground, throat torn out, blood spilling from the bite mark in his jugular.

The redheaded vampire beamed, blood covering his face and clothes. "Shall we?" he asked, and I nodded, forcing myself not to breathe in an effort to keep control. He was fast as he ran, heading for the door. Feet hit the ground as reinforcements hurried to find us, but we didn't slow down, legging it to freedom.

He spilled out into the sun, only to cry out in agony, and I realised he didn't have a daylight ring. I gripped the collar of his shirt, darting across to the first building I saw and yanking him inside, out of the reach of the sun's rays.

Burn marks covered his face and arms, the skin beneath the thick coat of blood still smoking. I looked around, we appeared to be in some kind of abandoned house, which was lucky, because had it been inhabited, we would have been unable to enter.

"Fucking hell," the vampire coughed, giving a slightly hysterical laugh.

I could hear the Calaveras burst out into the street, and I knew our time was limited. "Give it to me," I snarled at him, slamming the smirking maniac up against the wall, the plaster beneath him cracking.

"If you insist, darling," he purred, leaning in for a kiss. His lips collided with mine, and I found I couldn't move, not even a little bit – but it had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with the blood coating his face.

My eyes slid shut and my tongue darted out, desperately licking the blood from his lips. The Australian groaned as though I was in any way reciprocating, and with a disgusted gag I threw him off of me, tossing him to the floor, where the cement fractured under the force.

"Don't fucking touch me," I hissed at him, throwing my boot into his side, sneering in satisfaction as his ribs cracked from the blow. He grunted, though was still grinning like a fucking maniac. "Give me the stone," I ordered him, licking my lips again, unable to help but clean off the remaining traces of the blood from my face. I swallowed it down, telling myself that that was _it_, I refused to have any more.

"What're you willing to do in return?" he asked cheekily, his accent lilting in a way that almost reminded me of Klaus.

"Not kill you," I snarled furiously.

He only grinned wider, holey mouth on display. "To be honest, love, I'd rather you killed me," he told me sincerely, and I had to blink in shock at the words. "We both know we only got a matter of minutes till they find us," he said, still grinning like we were talking about something hilarious and not our impending doom. "They're gonna cart me right back into that cell."

"You could run," I suggested, my fury and desperation wavering.

"Out into the sun?" he asked, chuckling like I'd made a joke.

"Give me the stone," I tried again, hearing the Calaveras begin to knock down doors from just down the street.

"Swore an oath not to hand it over to anyone," he told me cheerfully. "But, there's not much I can do about that if I'm dead, eh?"

I hesitated. "Are you asking me to kill you?" I questioned doubtfully. This hadn't been how I'd expected things to go _at all_.

"I'll beg if it'll convince you," he grinned from his place in the crater on the concrete, reclined like it were a couch. A door banged down only two buildings away from us, and a note of panic appeared in his eyes, the first emotion other than teasing jolliness that I'd seen. "C'mon, darling," he said with familiarity, like we'd known each other years instead of minutes. "Do me a favour. Besides, you need the stone, right? It's win win."

I didn't see it that way, but I wasn't about to argue.

The decision was tough one, but I didn't have time to ponder it, so, as always, I took the easy option. With a quick scan of the room I found a large wooden beam, and in an instant it was in my grip. I snapped it in two over my knee, tossing half over my shoulder and kneeling over the vampire's body.

"Are you sure?" I asked, unable to help myself.

"I'm ready," he assured me with an ugly, roguish smirk. "Ive had my last meal and everything," he added, gesturing to the blood coating his body.

The entrance next door was beaten down, and I knew we were out of time. It wasn't how I'd wanted things to go, but I told myself it was a mercy killing – the best kind of killing there was. "Rest in peace," I told him sincerely, and he gave one more holey grin before I thrust the stake through his still heart.

He gasped, head tipping back, eyes turning glassy as veins began to crawl over his skin like a morbid work of modern art. I grimaced, feeling oddly guilty, but with a start remembered I had a job to do.

My hands patted him down, running over his body, looking for any sign of the stone in question. After a span of six seconds that felt entirely too long, I located it, hidden deep in the pocket of his jacket. I fished it out, holding it up to the light, confirming it was indeed lapis lazuli.

The front door burst open with a loud crash, but I was already winding my way through the back, breaking a dusty window and escaping out into the sun, the rock sitting uncomfortably in my pocket.

* * *

It was easy enough to find a car to compel into my possession. I felt kind of bad that I was from some tourists, but my need was without a doubt greater than theirs.

It took about five hours to make it to Beacon Hills, driving without pause or break. I rang Klaus once I was far enough away that I'd felt like I'd mourned the fallen vampire to completion.

"It's done," I told the Original over the phone, my voice steady, my eyes glancing up at the sky, noting that it was about an hour until sunset, and by then I'd be well and truly in Beacon Hills. "I have your bloody stone and the vampire is dead."

"Splendid," Klaus chirped happily from the other end.

"What am I meant to do with it?" I asked quickly. If this thing was so valuable that it was worth killing over, I didn't want it on my person any longer than necessary.

"Hold onto it for me," he instructed, saying exactly what I _didn't _want to hear. I internally groaned, less than pleased. "Keep it safe, and once I or one of my associates come to collect it, your debt will be repaid."

The words were music to my ears, I couldn't wait until I was out from under the bastard's thumb.

"Do I correctly assume you're back on your way to Beacon Hills?"

"Yes," I told him reluctantly.

"Do try to keep yourself alive," he murmured saccharinely, "it would be awfully inconvenient if you died while in possession of my property."

"I'll do my best," I sneered back, deciding with a satisfied hum that the conversation was over, and I hung up the phone.

I tried not to think too much about what would happen when I got back in town. What was I expecting? I knew I wouldn't be able to slip into my old life as though nothing had happened – but I was sure as hell going to try. What else could I possibly do? Pretending like everything was normal seemed like the best option.

The town was still and quiet as I drove through, almost eerily so. My skin prickled, my acute senses knowing that something was terribly wrong. The route to my house was a long one that wound around the outside of the town, as such forcing me to drive by the school.

I was just passing the field when a horrifically familiar sight caught my eyes. It was the creature from the other night, heavy-footed and large, animal skull sitting over it's face like a macabre mask.

I knew they wouldn't be there for no reason – they were after someone, and I knew odds were, it was one of the pack.

"Goddammit," I cursed, slamming my foot on the brake and bringing my stolen car to a screeching halt. I barrelled from the vehicle, slamming the door with such force that the window shattered, but I cared little, turning and legging it after the creatures.

I was faster than it, and I wasn't about to try and fight it again, my only hope was to save whoever it was after. I sped up, darting around it as I followed the smell of shifters, the scents getting clearer and more familiar the closer I got.

Scott and Malia were running as fast as their legs could carry them, and I came to a stop in front of them, and they both gasped, freezing in the moonlight, eyes wide open in panic.

"Move," I barked, and after a shared glance of pure shock, they did as they were told, diving to the sides. The dagger I'd fished from my boot was sent flying, burying itself to the hilt in the thing's chest.

The creature didn't so much as flinch, continuing to stalk towards us like a predator approaching it's prey, confident there was no hope of it's escape.

"What the hell _are _these things?" I demanded through a snarl, and the pair of shifters could do nothing but shake their heads.

"Run," Scott commanded, reaching out and grasping ahold of my arm, yanking me after them. I kept my pace slow, keeping with them – I sure as hell wasn't about to leave them alone with this thing.

"Scott, there's both of them," Malia hissed in a panic. "They're both here." I spun around, noting that a second one had appeared, snarling ferociously from under it's grotesque mask.

"Where the hell's Peter?!" the alpha shouted wildly, backing up and nearly tripping when his ankles caught on the stairs. I grabbed him, keeping him upright.

"I don't know, he just took off!" Malia responded loudly, heart racing with fear. She turned, leading the way up the stairs. I spun around, taking them two at a time – surely our only hope was to run. We could never fight these things off ourselves.

The second one was quick, cutting us off with a low growl. We were trapped on the staircase, a creature at each side. I considered jumping – I might break a limb or two, but that would heal soon enough.

"Jules," Scott said under his breath. Like no time had passed at all, I suddenly understood exactly what he was trying to say. He wanted us to fight. I wanted to swear, but Scott was right – if we ran, we might never be able to stop. I groaned, but he knew it was a sound of frustrated acceptance. "Help Malia," he murmured nearly silently, and with a nod I attacked, Malia following me, her claws protruding from her fingertips as she slashed at the creature with reckless abandon.

She distracted it well enough, it's attention on her, and I used the opportunity to attack it myself. I leapt on it's back, locking my hands around it's throat. I thought that may have worked, but in an intelligent move it threw me back against the metal railing. I felt my spine pop as I dropped to the floor in agony. It kicked me, sending my sliding along the floor until I slammed into the lockers behind me with a grunt.

Malia appeared beside me a beat later, staring up at the things in terror. I sucked in a sharp breath that hurt like a bitch, slowly but surely feeling my spine begin to realign.

Scott slid up to us a moment later, peering up at the creatures, hopeless. Everyone seemed to want to join the party, as in the next moment, the katana wielding kitsune leapt over us with surprising grace, sliding to a stop and instantly tumbling into a series of practised moves, slicing her sword at the creatures, who barely flinched under the attack.

"Kira," Scott whispered, anxiety covering his face as his heart beat wildly in his chest, his fear for the girl apparent. Perhaps there was something more between them than I'd assumed, particularly when taking into account the embrace that lasted just a little bit too long back in the desert.

All thoughts of gossip were wiped from my mind as the kitsune was backhanded across the face in a move that was almost laughable casual, and she landed beside the concerned alpha, a grimace of defeat on her face.

That's it, we were completely and utterly done for. Goodbye cruel world.

I wasn't sure how I'd pictured my death, but getting torn out by a pair of unnamed monsters wearing animal skull masks didn't seem as noble as I would have liked.

All I knew was that unless someone did something, we were done for, because there was no way we could face these things alone. I glanced around, everybody seemed frozen with fear, like dear in the headlights. I knew what had to be done – I was the oldest, not to mention the fastest. If any of us needed to be the distraction, it was me.

Unsteadily I climbed to my feet, my back protesting as my spine was still out of whack, but I ignored it.

"Jules," Scott hissed from his place on the concrete, a note of panic in his voice.

"Hey," I barked at the creatures, ignoring Scott. They cocked their heads, beginning to inch closer and closer, their claws clacking as they brushed one another like grotesque instruments. "Come get me," I said, goading them before I disappeared, rematerialising behind them. "Yoo-hoo!" I called, and with guttural growls they spun around so they were facing me. I made eye contact with Scott, trying to tell him to run, but he and the others remained exactly where they were, watching on with horrified eyes, like witnesses of a train wreck, unable to look away. "What're a coupla assholes like you doing in a nice place like this?" I asked them through a cheeky sneer, and although I wasn't sure they even understood the jibe, they still attacked.

I was quick, ducking under the hit and throwing my weight at the side of the one on the left, much like I had done back in Mexico. I didn't manage to take it down, but it did stumble back a step. The other one was right there, slicing me in the thigh with one of it's monstrous claws.

"Prick," I cursed thoughtlessly, forced to my knees as blood began to pour down my leg. I hadn't fed recently enough, so I wasn't going to heal as fast as I would have liked. I threw out my elbow, clipping the thing as hard as I could between the legs, but it barely even flinched. I growled, the sound animalistic in an attempt to spook them, but they remained unmoved as ever.

Growing frustrated, I leapt up faster than human eyes could travel, grabbing hold of their massive shoulders and swinging up onto one of the things' backs. It instantly tried to shake me off, but I held on stubbornly, locking my legs around it as I struggled to get a good grip on it's head, prepared to snap it's neck without hesitation.

Only I didn't get that far. The other one was quick, thrusting it's hand out, claws glinting in the moonlight.

I felt the blow rather than saw it. Something had impaled me, cutting through the skin and organs of my abdomen, protruding out the other side like I were a kebab.

"Fuck," I swore, feeling blood trickle from my lips. That was gonna be a tough one to recover from.

I slid from the thing's back, crumpling to the ground, clutching my middle in an effort to keep my guts inside my body where they belonged.

"Ugh," I groaned, turning my head up to glare at the monsters defiantly, keeping a white-knuckled grip on my dignity even as blood dripped from my chin; for the first time, my own. They didn't move even though any sane creature would be finishing the job.

I realised why a moment later, a snarling werewolf barrelling into sight. He was small compared to the masked monsters, but he fought with the skill of someone trained, slicing at them with a ferocious abandon.

One hand remaining over my wound, I crawled out of the way, tossing myself up against the lockers, folded in on myself, trying to force myself to heal by will power alone. Where would I be able to find fresh human blood under these circumstances? Would one of the pack do a snack run to the hospital if I asked nicely enough? Or would they leave me stuck in the hallway of the high school to rot until I found a janitor to chew on? Something told me they weren't that heartless.

Everything seemed like kind of a blur, the fight happening before me barely even registered in my mind. It was just a vague haze of violence, and I could smell rotten blood as it wafted through the air, the stench nothing like that of a vampire, or even that of Void. This was different, this was literally _death_, like a corpse left to decompose in the trash, the worst kind of smell.

Finally the things began to run away, fleeing for one reason or another. "Derek?" Scott asked lowly, and I blinked my eyes, forcing them to refocus just enough to spot a fully-grown Derek Hale, standing in the moonlight, eyes a glittering, glowing amber.

Something about that was wrong, but I couldn't piece together what it was in my injured condition.

"Jules?" the alpha asked suddenly, attention moving from Derek to me. I attempted a weak smile, lifting a hand from my stomach and wriggling my fingers in something of a wave. "Are you okay?" he questioned hurriedly, rushing to my side, his voice dripping with concern. "What do you need?"

"Blood," I replied, barely stopping myself from rolling my eyes. Surely that should have been obvious? He hesitated, clearly torn on whether or not to help. Then, with a disgusted grimace, he held out a wrist for me to bite into. I laughed, the sound weak at best. "_Human_ blood," I clarified with remarkable patience considering the rather large pool of blood accumulating beneath me.

Scott spun around, eyeing each person present with wide eyes. We had two werewolves, a kitsune and a were-coyote, none of which close enough to a human to be able to be of any help.

"Stiles," the alpha said suddenly, scrambling for his phone.

"No," I shook my head quickly, groaning when it made me feel nauseas. "Not Stiles."

"Jules, don't be ridiculous," he told me gently, brushing aside my words as though I wasn't in my right mind. "Stiles can help."

"How can Stiles help?"

The kid himself had arrived, bat slung over his shoulder as he jogged to meet us. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look him in the eyes, not sure I was ready to handle what I might see in them. "She needs blood," Scott said quickly, climbing to his feet.

Stiles' heart sped up in his chest, no doubt as he took in my collapsed form. "I'll be fine," I assured them. I could feel a dull heat in my stomach. Somehow, Lord only knows how, my skin was beginning to knit itself back together. It was slow going, but I pulled back my hand and opened my eyes, peering down as I watched it steadily begin to heal over. I could feel my insides still torn apart, but hopefully they would soon follow in the healing process. "See? I'm already healing," I said with forced cheer.

I was surprised when a hand appeared in my line of sight, following the arm it was attached to with my eyes, finding Malia on the other side, a grim expression on her face. Wary though thankful, I took the offered hand, allowing her to help me to my feet with a grunt of pain.

"You saved us," Kira said, a strange kind of respect in her voice, it made me kind of uncomfortable.

"Derek saved you," I corrected, my tone curt. I didn't want them getting any ideas, I wasn't some kind of hero. I was barely doing what _I_ had to to get by, let alone everybody else.

"If you hadn't distracted them, who knows what they would have done?" Scott spoke up, stepping closer, his wolfish scent swimming around me like he were alight.

Thankfully the whole group wasn't focused on me. Lydia had moved over to Derek, talking with him in low voices, and Malia had distracted Kira with something or other. The only people paying me any attention were Scott and Stiles, the pair of them wearing contrasting expressions.

Scott looked thankful, relieved even, while Stiles had the strangest look on his face, an odd sort of glare, the look a mix of frustration and consternation.

"I was just buying us time," I finally replied, and Scott smiled gently, like I'd cracked a joke.

He shot a glance to Stiles over his shoulder, and the pair of brothers communicated silently. What they were saying I couldn't even begin to guess, but suddenly Scott reached out and cupped a hand over my shoulder, squeezing affectionately and tossing me a puppy-dog smile before turning and heading over to Kira with purpose.

That left me alone with Stiles, the one place I both ached and loathed to be. I said nothing, not even meeting his eyes and instead staring at the far wall, my teeth grit together like I were expecting his words to be a physical blow.

"You came back," he finally said, his voice quiet.

"Yes."

"Why?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that. For him, yes, but only because being away was too hard. It was time to keep a distance, and I didn't want him getting any ideas otherwise.

"This is my home now," I eventually answered, my voice flat and emotionless as I still didn't look at him. I didn't want to risk caving when I saw whatever it was in his eyes.

"So...you're back? For good?" he asked softly, sounding calm and neutral, though his heart was hammering away like a hummingbird's from beneath his ribs, giving him away. I didn't mention it.

"Yes," I said carefully, pressing a hand to my barely-healed wound, brushing a finger over the new skin. I longed to turn and look at him, run my eyes over the lines of his beautiful face once again, but I couldn't let myself. I just couldn't.

"Good," he said, voice flat and somewhat disappointed. I hoped it wasn't because of my answer, but I wasn't about to look and find out. "Do you need a ride home?" he asked me faintly, but I shook my head, eyes pinned resolutely on the far wall.

"I've got a ride," I told him, confused when his heart only continued to pound, never calming. Humans were odd, their bodies reacted in baffling ways.

I decided not to say goodbye, everyone was wrapped up talking to one another. I gave a nod in Scott's direction that I wasn't even totally sure he noticed, still holding a protective hand over my stomach as I turned and began to pad away.

Stiles let me go without a word, and I told myself I was being selfish by how much that hurt. It was my own fault. I did this. Nobody else. I was alone again, but I supposed that was just the way it was meant to be.

* * *

**A/N: I've said it before, but I know things seem bleak now, and they may for a while – but things have to get worse before they can get better. Everyone's saying how much they hope Stiliet will be endgame, and I promise, the plans I have will make you very, very happy.**

**More to come soon, I've been writing like crazy lately! Can't wait to hear what you all think. Thanks for reading - until next time! **


	66. Shadows

_There's something so rare in your veins_

_Not a single thing I would change_

_And oh, if you only knew_

_How I see you_

_Would you come alive again_

_I need you to understand_

_I don't mind your shadows_

_'Cause they disappear in the light_

_I don't mind your shadows_

_'Cause they look a lot like mine_

_And listen to me_

_It's okay to be afraid_

_Just walk like you're never alone_

Shadows – Sabrina Carpenter

* * *

Things over the next week fell into a rather monotonous routine. I woke up, fed from my month-old blood stock and cleaned my house. I wasn't generally a tidy person, but over the month I had been away, my house had been left untouched. The food in my kitchen had gone off, leaving a terrible smell to waft through the house any time I opened the door, and a thin layer of dust coated everything, making my nose itch when I breathed in.

I cleaned at a human's pace, trying to make the work last, knowing otherwise I'd have it done in less than a day; then what would I do with myself?

Nobody came to visit me. Not Scott, not Derek, and certainly not Stiles.

It was better that way – or at least, that's what I kept telling myself.

I didn't want to go back to school, not even a little bit. I was planning to stay home, watch some TV and train, work on my reflexes and strength – because, like anyone, even a vampire was improved by exercise.

It wasn't until January 3rd that I changed my mind, or rather, that it was changed for me.

I hadn't been expecting anybody to knock at my door, much less Lydia Martin. I blinked at her in surprise, foot tapping at my floorboards as I waited for her to say something. What could she have _possibly _wanted?

"Yes?" I finally asked after a long minute of deafening silence, during which she did nothing but stare at me, her large eyes careful and calculating.

"May I come in?" she asked politely, her voice gentle. Strawberry-blonde hair glinted in the sunlight, and she had a light pink colour smeared over her lips. She smelled faintly of cherry-blossoms, and I felt myself salivate ever so slightly before I bit my tongue until I tasted blood.

I said nothing, stepping aside and allowing her entry, pushing the door closed with a soft click before turning and following her further into my house.

She came to a stop in the middle of my living room, eyes sliding over my furniture as though assessing how I lived. As far as I could remember, she hadn't ever visited my humble abode before. I wandered what she thought of the knife collection hanging like treasured mementos along the far wall. "What are your plans?" she asked without preamble, spinning on her heel and fixing me with a tense, searching look that I wasn't used to seeing from her. Perhaps she'd grown more in the past few months than I'd given her credit for.

I wasn't exactly sure what she was asking, so I elected to remain silent, eyeing her cautiously.

"Are you staying in Beacon Hills, or are you going to get scared and run again?" she questioned harshly, and defiant glint to her usually soft eyes.

My eyebrows raised in surprised interest at her sheer nerve. "Excuse me?" I asked her carefully, my own eyes glinting with challenge.

"If you're going to go, then just go," she said, her voice was somehow calm and sharp in the same instant. "Don't dangle hope in front of Stiles' face just to rip it away when you get sick of small town life," she growled, an awkward edge to her body language. I got the feeling she didn't do this often. She was strong, but she definitely wasn't confrontational.

"I'm not _dangling_ anything," I told her with impressive calm, crossing my arms over my chest. "This is my home."

"And what are you doing here?" she pressed. "You don't have a job. You haven't left the house since you got here. Nobody's heard a word out of you. We weren't even sure you were alive."

"Concerned?" I teased through a smirk.

"Pissed off," she corrected sharply, and my eyebrows raised curiously.

"Why are you so protective of Stiles, anyway?" I asked, a sudden jealousy – which I knew I had _no _right to feel – rearing it's ugly green head from deep inside my gut. "Are the two of you..." I trailed off, the implication obvious. He'd loved her before he knew what the word meant, he'd wanted her since forever, perhaps he'd finally gotten his wish.

"He's my friend," she snapped, chin tilted up intransigently, eyes just daring me to question it. I wasn't sure whether that was true, even though her heart didn't so much as stutter as it would have were it a lie. "He's been there, through thick and thin. He's been _reliable_. Unlike _you._"

"I'm not going to apologise," I told her darkly, growing irritated. "I did what was best, for everyone."

"You don't get to make that call," she replied tersely. "Not alone."

I considered her carefully, my eyes sweeping her form, taking in her black skirt and dark red shirt, observing the way she stood, her body language screaming annoyance and perhaps a hint of indignation. "And you're an expert, are you?" I asked, my voice silky smooth.

She narrowed her eyes, contemplating the situation and how to respond. I could practically hear the cogs in her mind turning over, and there was a sudden spark of something in her eyes that I couldn't place.

"You did some awful things; I get it," she finally spoke, and her words had me locked down faster than she could react. I clenched my jaw, my gaze turning dangerous as my hands balled into white-knuckled fists. I stopped breathing altogether, watching her every move, monitoring every blip of her steady but racing heart. "But guess what? The world doesn't revolve around you."

"Be very careful, Lydia," I warned her in a growl, but she didn't so much as blink an eye, too used to running with wolves to be worried by a vampire.

"You've hurt people," she continued boldly. "So have a lot of us. We don't let it ruin us, we move forwards. You need to _own that shit_," she said strongly, and I blinked in surprise at the harsh language, "instead of sitting here, stewing in your guilt like a pathetic little child."

I had the sudden urge to laugh, but it was coming from a hysterical place, rather than from any kind of actual amusement.

The indignation in her eyes suddenly dropped, giving way to a sort of pity that made me feel like pure shit. "You need to keep moving, Jules," she said gently, as though we were actually _friends. _"This isn't healthy, and it isn't helping things." I wasn't sure what to say, staring back at her unblinkingly. "The school thinks you're either a drug addict or dead, they filed a police report when you stopped showing up, but the Sheriff made it go away, so you're in the clear," she informed me softly. "Come back, compel them to believe whatever cover story you decide to contrive, and blend back into society."

"That's not a good idea," I'd spoken without thinking, the refusal more an instinct than an opinion.

"Says who?"

_Stiles,_ I wanted to say, but I wasn't sure that would help my case. It would be hard, seeing him every day, living life, without me. I wanted to be close, but I couldn't handle being _that close._

"He wants to see you," she said, and my gaze snapped back to her sharply.

"What are you now, a mind reader?" I hissed defensively, but she seemed unbothered by my whole tough-guy charade.

"Nope, still a banshee," she replied lightly, like we were discussing something as inconsequential as the weather. "Things will go back to normal, given time," she assured me gently.

"What if I don't want them to?" I countered quickly, a scowl sitting uncomfortably on my face.

"I think we both know that's a lie," she responded, a soft smile on her lips. I felt the urge to hit her, do something, anything that might relieve the angry tension building in my body. But I would never, I was better than that, and she didn't deserve it. Not _really_. "The only way to heal, is to move forwards."

I chuckled in a sharp, unamused bark. "Can't heal what's already scarred over."

Lydia cocked her head. "I don't think it has scarred over, not yet," she told me, a knowing glint to her luminescent eyes. "I think it's still an open wound – and _the wound is the place where the light enters you_."

"Jalaluddin Rumi," I recognised the quote instantly, picking it from my extensive memory with a surprised hum.

Lydia looked just as shocked that I'd known it's origin. "Yes," she nodded, a smile beginning to grow on her lips. "You will move passed this, Juliet," she said softly. "And you're not alone."

I grit my teeth again. "I certainly feel it," I told her with a scoff, immediately horrified that I'd admitted as much, biting my tongue again in punishment.

The look in her eyes turned pitying, making me bite down harder. She seemed to sense my stricken feelings, smoothing her hands down the front of her outfit as though it weren't already perfectly pressed. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?" she finally asked.

I wanted to say no, but the girl was smart – much smarter than I ever wanted to admit. I did want things to return to how they were; not necessarily between Stiles and I, but I longed to be part of the pack again. I knew that wasn't going to happen with me cooped up in my house like an agoraphobic hermit. I exhaled sharply through my nose, reaching up with a hand to irritatedly brush my long, raven hair from my face, gripping it tightly like an anchor, tethering me to sanity.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow," I agreed with a reluctant grumble, and the banshee smiled, the expression surprisingly lacking a victorious glint, instead presenting nothing but pure happiness, like she would be happy if I were happy. That was odd. We'd never even been close to the realm of 'friends'.

"Do you need help picking out an outfit?" she asked suddenly.

I grimaced. "Let's not push it," I murmured, and surprisingly the banshee gave a little laugh, the sound lighthearted. I realised I hadn't heard her laugh much. She was refined and contained, but when she smiled she lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. I could suddenly see what Stiles found so charming about her.

Despite months and months of blatant hostility, I couldn't help the way my lips curled up in a small smile in response to her laugh. Maybe we could make friends of ourselves yet.

"I'll leave you alone," she told me a moment later, turning and stepping passed me, heading for my font door. I remained in the doorway, watching her leave cautiously. "You're going to be okay, Jules," she assured me, her hand still on the doorknob. I wasn't sure what to make of the comment, so I merely stared back unflinchingly until she smiled like I'd reacted exactly as she'd expected, turning and leaving my house with a straight spine and a satisfied smile.

My encounter with Lydia left me shaken somewhat, I didn't like conversing with people when I didn't have the upper hand; I didn't like the vulnerable position it left me in. However disconcerting the conversation may have been, it also left me with an odd sort of peace, like a part of me actually believed everything she'd said.

I spent a lot of that night in the bath, listening to jazz and sipping cheap wine, refilling the tub every time the water dropped below 98˚, only enjoying it when it was scolding hot – the only temperature my chilled skin could feel.

I didn't sleep, instead drinking the last of my blood supply and finishing the last touches on cleaning my house. It was spotless, so much so that you couldn't even tell that a good dozen people had died within it's walls. If I believed in God, I may have sent a prayer to heaven for those lost to my weakness.

I dressed in a pair of worn red jeans, forcing my feet into my shabby old boots and throwing on a simple black tee with some kind of logo on the front, then running a brush through my hair. I couldn't be bothered to do more, merely scrubbing my teeth and checking I had at least one pen in my bag before leaving the house.

I ended up keeping the car I stole. Walking around town didn't seem as appealing as it once had, not without Stiles offering to drive me places. So I switched the plates to keep the cops off my ass and kept it. I hadn't driven in a long time, but my journey from Mexico to Beacon Hills had more than warmed me up.

The misappropriated car wasn't the best machine ever built; it was rickety and rusted, and every now and again it backfired loudly, but it got me from point A to point B, and it kept the rain out, so I was happy to keep it.

Though, it was without a doubt the shittiest car in Beacon Hill High's parking lot. I tilted my chin up as the exhaust gave a deafening _bang,_ stubbornly sliding a pair of worn sunglasses onto my face and climbing out. I didn't bother locking it, if someone cared enough to hot wire the thing, they could have it.

People stared as I arrived, my mostly-empty bag swinging against my side as I strode with faked confidence up to the front doors. I could hear the whispers echoing around me like gunshots, but I grit my teeth and suffered through it, strutting through the doors with forged dignity.

"_I heard she got hooked on crack and moved to LA to be closer to her dealer._"

"_I heard Isaac Lahey knocked her up and she followed him to France to birth their lovechild._"

"_Monica told me she got caught doing underage porn..._"

"_But did you hear how she totally broke that Stiles guy's heart? Yeah, she like, hooked up with another guy or something. He was a total wreck. I guess that's what he gets for fucking around with a certified skank like her-_"

The last one made me crack, I couldn't rein myself in. With a snap that humans couldn't see, the girl was held up by her shirt, pressed against the wall in a way that was the exact opposite of sexy. She had short blonde hair and her blue eyes were more than a little terrified as she whimpered from under my tight grip.

"You _ever _talk about Stiles or I like that ever again, I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to feral dogs," I threatened without blinking, and she whimpered again. The sound was entrancing, and in a flash my attention was dragged to the steady but fast thumping of her pulse – so delicate her jugular was, just millimetres beneath soft, thin skin...she smelt faintly of coconut...

"Jules!" a voice, quite literally, barked and with a loud gasp I dropped the nameless bitch in my grip. She collapsed to the ground in a heap, and was quick to stumble to her feet and scurrying away like a rat. I took a deep, calming breath, steadying myself before I slowly turned around, meeting Scott's warm brown eyes.

"Hey," I greeted him quietly, unable to hold his gaze, too ashamed of myself.

"What was that?" He didn't seem angry, but he didn't see all too pleased, either.

"She made a remark about Stiles..." I admitted reluctantly, reaching up to rub at my eyes, glad I hadn't bothered with makeup that morning. "It was stupid," I hissed, gritting my teeth for a beat, hoping the guilt would fade. It didn't. "Sorry," I said sincerely, finally glancing back up at the alpha, who was watching me through sympathetic eyes.

He glanced over his shoulder and the small crowd that had gathered quickly dispersed. He stepped closer, reaching up to squeeze my shoulder in a way that was surprisingly comforting. "Are you sure you're ready to be back at school?" he asked gently. "If it's too much for you, you can always take some more time-"

"I'm not sure I'll ever really be _ready_, Scott," I told him quietly. Crossing my arms over my chest and taking another unnecessary breath. His wet-dog scent was comforting, like a brother's might be, and I felt nostalgic for the old days when it was just him, me and Stiles against the world.

"You can't just attack anyone who ticks you off, Jules," he told me seriously, ducking down to look in my eyes. More ashamed than ever, I nodded like I were a chastised toddler. "What are you doing here?" he asked, keeping his hand on my shoulder, his grip anchoring me to the moment.

"Trying to get back to normal," I told him.

"I don't know if things will ever be the same again, Juliet," he said it like he regretted the fact, but that didn't make it any less true. "I think you need to find a new normal," he suggested softly.

Fear struck me like lightning, and I swallowed against the stab of pain I felt. "You want me to leave?" I asked hollowly, blinking up at him, willing myself not to cry like a pitiful human. Dammit, I was _stronger _than this!

"Of course not," he told me hurriedly, his other hand coming up to join the one already on my shoulder. He held me at arm's length, ducked down slightly so he could see into my eyes. Reluctantly, I held his gaze. "None of us want you to leave, Jules," he assured me, squeezing me to make sure I got the message. "You're _family_, and we want you here, no matter what."

"Even if I'm a soulless, bloodlust-driven, serial killer?" I asked bitterly, and though the mention of my recent blunder made a hint of awkwardness worm it's way into the conversation, he remained firm, squeezing my shoulders again and keeping his eyes on mine.

"You're healing," he told me, sounding as confident in his words as he possibly could given the circumstances. "You relapsed, it happens to every addict at one point or another." I didn't agree, but I also didn't argue. Probably because I so desperately wanted to _believe _him.

That's what I was, I remembered with a grimace of self-loathing: an _addict_.

"We want you here," Scott repeated gently, pulling me from my thoughts before they could spiral. "But Jules, nobody else can die," he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice to ensure the humans wouldn't overhear. "No _one_ person. Okay?"

I nodded instantly – I would have agreed to _anything_ to get permission to stay.

"Don't be a stranger," he told me as the bell above our heads began to ring, the sound uncomfortable and jarring, making Scott remove his hands and step back, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder.

"Get to class, teen wolf," I prompted him as lightly as I could manage, giving him a tiny nudge in the other direction. He smiled at me, eyes shining as they so often did. He turned and disappeared around the corner, heading for his English class.

I had Art class next; it was slow going, but it was an excuse to zone out for three quarters of an hour, so I happily endured it, humming to myself as a distraction from my own thoughts while I sketched a profile that looked remarkably like Stiles in the moonlight.

I was out soon enough, making my way to Econ – which I loathed – and that was when a figure slammed into my back, the person having been running full force down the hallway, not watching where they were going.

"Sorry!" Stiles' voice called, spinning around to fix me with an apologetic glance, only to comically freeze into place when he realised exactly who he's knocked into. "Oh, my God," he muttered, his already racing heart picking up even more, his eyes going wide. "Jules," he said, blinking in shock as he tried to process who he was seeing.

"What's wrong?" I decided not to beat around the bush, I was more interested in knowing where he was heading in such a desperate hurry.

"Um...I-" he stammered, rapidly blinking again as though he were checking I wasn't just an extremely realistic mirage.

"Stiles, what's going on?" I pressed, taking a step closer.

This was step one in getting things back to normal: pretend nothing was wrong, ignore the conversations needed and continue business as usual. Maybe not the most _mature_ method of dealing with things, but 'mature' wasn't something I'd ever claimed to be. Besides, I _was _technically frozen at nineteen, it wasn't my fault I'd never fully grown-up.

"Uh, triple homicide," he finally answered me, seeming to get over the shock of my presence at school, though his heart continued to race, whether from the homicide or me, I couldn't tell.

"Who?" I asked, hoping it wasn't anyone he knew.

"Just a family in town," he revealed, glancing over my shoulder and jumping into action when he saw the person he'd no doubt been originally looking for. "Scott!" he exclaimed, and I spun around, watching as he bounded over to his best friend, who was making his way leisurely down the hall with Kira, both of them with shy little smiles on their faces.

"Guys, we have a problem," he said without preamble, startling both of them as they turned to look at him with wide eyes. "There's an axe murderer on the loose," he divulged as they continued to walk, and Kira's heart began to race.

"An axe murderer?" the young kitsune asked skeptically, clutching at the straps of her backpack tightly.

"A family murdering axe murderer," Stiles corrected in a rush.

"I...already heard about it," Scott admitted quietly, keeping his voice down so they didn't attract attention from the currently-oblivious humans passing us. I kept behind Stiles, breathing through my mouth in an effort to keep my hunger buried, listening intently and wondering how we were going to go about _this_ task.

"What? You did? How?" Stiles demanded, dodging the oncoming foot traffic and coming to a stop near a bay of windows, natural light pouring into the crowded hall.

"Yeah, well mom called me – she knew we'd see it on the news," the teen wolf replied calmly.

"Perfect. Let's go."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Scott stopped him from leaving, a hesitant look on his face. "We've got Econ in five minutes."

I leant against the lockers, arms crossed as I kept my eyes focused on Stiles' face, watching his reaction. He blinked in surprise, not understanding what Scott was saying. "Right, did you forget the part about the family murdering axe murderer?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Did you forget that your dad's the Sheriff?" the alpha countered dryly. "They want us to stay out of it," he revealed with a reluctant frown.

"Are you guys _kidding_ me?" Stiles exclaimed. "There's a family-murdering axe murderer and we're not going to do anything about it?" he demanded furiously.

"Maybe we should just let the adults handle it?" Kira suggested hopefully, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"So the two of you, you just wanna stay here...school...go to class...?" Stiles spat incredulously. "Never heard anything so irresponsible in my life." He spun around, storming off with impressive force.

"See you at tryouts?!" Scott called after him, but Stiles only responded with a flippant wave of his hands. I shot Scott a smile that was half faked, turning and rushing after the irritated human, catching up with laughable ease.

I said nothing for a long minute, merely walking alongside him silently, listening to the beating of his heart, the sound calming me better than any song ever could.

He glanced over casually and jumped back when he noticed me, not having realised I'd remained with him. "Sorry," I murmured apologetically, wincing as his pulse picked up again.

"Just, breathe or something," he told me frustratedly. "At least _act _human, would you?"

The words stung, although I wasn't totally sure why. I recoiled, head tilting down to my feet as I found myself unable to meet his eyes. His heart stuttered in his chest, but I didn't mention it or look up. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and sending his unique chocolate-and-mint smell swirling around me. I stopped breathing again, not wanting his delicious scent to tempt me.

"What's up?" he asked with forced politeness, crossing his arms and leaning back against the lockers. I noticed the crowd around us begin to thin, but I remained focused on him.

"I just wanted to let you know that...well, anything you want to do...in relation to the family murdering axe murderer, I mean...I'm in," I told him weakly, wincing as I spoke, hearing how horribly pathetic I sounded as I stammered through my words.

I didn't look up, not sure I wanted to see his reaction. Would he be pleased or annoyed by my involvement? Did he want me around at all?

He didn't do as I expected – he rarely ever did – and instead of recoiling he laughed, sagging down further like he was tired. "At least someone seems to care," he said bitterly. "Awfully ironic that it's you, though," he added, and again I winced, seeing the jibe for what it was – a dig at my blood-soaked past.

We said nothing for a long minute, the silence suddenly deafening, and I realised the halls had completely emptied, leaving entirely alone. I adjusted the strap of my bag, clearing my throat but finding I had no idea what to say.

"There's this kid, transferred this year," he began, surprising me once more. "He's crazy good at lacrosse. I'm talking _supernaturally _good." I nodded, finally dragging my eyes from his sneakers to his face, watching as he animatedly explained his predicament. "Maybe...maybe you could come to tryouts this afternoon? See for yourself, maybe you'll pick up on something that we missed."

"Okay," I agreed instantly. I'd been planning to go anyway, but it was even nicer to have a proper invitation.

"Good," he nodded.

"Good."

We were silent again.

"Come on," he said, turning on his heel and beginning to march in the other direction. "You can compel Coach to let us out of detention for being tardy."

Despite the awful tension, I laughed, following after him quickly as I smiled to myself. Maybe my life here wasn't as over as I'd once believed it to be. Maybe one day I would finally find redemption.

* * *

The bleachers were fairly empty when I appeared, but I figured I was early and more people would arrive eventually. I took a seat on a bench near the front, fishing the Twizzlers from my bag and beginning to chew on one absently, eyeing the empty field with boredom.

People began to arrive, all of whom giving me a wide berth, none keen on getting too close to me – not that I blamed them, my display in the hallway this morning was proof enough that I was mentally unstable. Plus, I _was_ just kind of creepy.

I was surprised, then, when two people took a seat on my right, collapsing onto the bench and pulling out a book each. I looked over, raising an eyebrow in surprise as I noted it was Kira and Malia, the former looking nervous while the latter seemed bored.

"Um, hello?" I asked politely, wondering if they wanted something or were just being unnecessarily nice. Oh, how I loathed people who were unnecessarily nice.

"Kira saw you sitting alone and thought we should come sit by you," Malia told me bluntly, scowling out at the lacrosse field flatly. "She was too scared to sit beside you though," she added, referring to the fact that she was the one next to me while Kira was safely on her other side. The kitsune's face went a blotchy red.

"And you're not?" I challenged Malia, deciding to spare Kira the embarrassment of mentioning it.

The were-coyote snorted like I'd told a mildly amusing joke. "Not even slightly," she told me casually, and I couldn't help the smirk that lit up my face.

"Good to know," I murmured, but she didn't respond, cracking open her book and staring down at the page through narrowed eyes before giving up and turning her attention to the field where the boys were beginning to run drills. My eyes focused on Stiles like he was somehow magnetised to my eyes alone. I watched closely as he ran, watching the way his lithe muscles moved under his clothes. It made me hungry, and not for his blood.

I didn't have a right to think that way anymore, I told myself sternly, biting my tongue against the unearned urges.

"He hasn't shut up about you since you left," Malia spoke indifferently, like she were commenting on the state of the day and not revealing something that made my dead heart leap to life as though shocked.

"Really?" I aimed for nonchalant, but by the twitch of her lips I figured I hadn't hit it.

"It's been annoying, to be honest," she muttered, sounding kind of sour. "It's all 'Juliet used to do this' and 'Juliet likes that'. Ugh," she grunted, narrowed eyes focused out on the boys beginning to run laps. "If I hear your name one more time, I might just snap."

I didn't want to ask, mostly because I wasn't sure I wanted the answer, but I couldn't help myself. "So then, you two aren't..." I trailed off obviously, never removing my eyes from Stiles who was falling behind the group, beginning to pant excessively. However, I kept my ears tuned to Malia's heartbeat, monitoring for any signs of a lie.

"God no," she snorted again, reaching into my cannister of candy to pull out a Twizzler for herself, chewing on it without glancing my way. Were it anyone else I would have snapped their wrist in two, but I had to admit I had a strange kind of respect for Malia. Maybe it was because she killed her own family; because she knew what it was like to be a wild animal. "Stiles is the one person I don't wanna rip to shreds," she told me casually. "Most days, anyway."

Kira looked wary at the admission, but Malia didn't acknowledge her nervous stare, making me smirk.

"Okay," I nodded, taking another bite of my Twizzler, chewing on it thoughtfully.

There was a long, drawn out minute of silence where Kira's heart pounded loudly from within her chest. I wondered if she was going into cardiac arrest, but she didn't seem in pain, so I figured she'd alert us if she needed medical attention.

"What's wrong with you?" Malia asked the kitsune abruptly, her voice flat and annoyed.

"Me?" Kira squeaked, her pulse speeding up. I leaned around Malia to pin her with a look, one eyebrow cocked as I watched her closely. "Nothing," she said unconvincingly.

"You reek of anxiety," Malia deadpanned. I hadn't been breathing in an effort to not rip an unsuspecting human to shreds, but now I warily inhaled, taking in the subtle scent of anxiety that, coupled with her racing pulse, only confirmed her nervousness. "It's distracting," the were-coyote continued. "What's going on?"

Kira's dark eyes flickered over to me, but my expression remained impassive, patiently awaiting her explanation. "Scott and I sort of had this thing happen," she admitted in a rush. "But it wasn't much of a thing...and I'm starting to think it never was _anything _at all..."

"What do you want it to be?" Malia asked flatly.

Kira considered this for a long moment. "More," she eventually answered, staring across the field at Scott like a lovesick idiot. Though I supposed I wasn't _really _one to judge, I thought as I cast my own eyes over at Stiles, who was unsuccessfully trying to catch a ball with his lacrosse stick, his arms and legs flailing about like a seizing octopus.

The boys were absolutely dying out there...it was actually atrocious, I felt kind of embarrassed just watching them.

"Isn't the team captain supposed to be the best player...or, you know, _good_?" Kira asked tentatively, and I couldn't help but snort, leaning back on the bench and watching as Scott missed yet another shot.

"It's 'cause Scott's too much of a saint to consider using his...abilities...to get the shots," I said with a smirk. "And human Scott...let's just say he's not the most coordinated guy."

Kira sighed, staring over at a defeated looking Scott with worried eyes.

Stiles had been right about this one kid, however. He was good..._too_ good. He made literally every single shot he took, and I was frustrated on the boys' behalf, watching through narrowed eyes as he continued to totally kick ass on the field. I inhaled, but was unable to catch any wolfish scents other than Scott himself.

The boys soon moved onto defence, protecting the goal – from what little I could tell – and Scott apparently decided he'd played enough Mr Nice Guy for the day. The amount of people he plowed down was impressive, and I didn't hold back as I cheered for them, easily the loudest person in the stands.

It wasn't until the 'perfect' kid took a crack at it that their streak ended, and I watched through narrowed eyes as the freshmen dodged the alpha with impossible skill, sending the ball flying into the net with a flick of his wrist.

I hissed, grinding my teeth together in frustration, wondering if Stiles would get mad at me if there was an 'accident' involving the freshman and a set of stairs, resulting in a few – non-life-threatening – broken bones. "That was luck!" Malia shouted, surprising me as she stood from where she was sat, waving her hand angrily at the Coach. "Do over!"

"Sweetheart, there are no 'do-overs'. This is practise," Coach smiled condescendingly. I sneered at him but he didn't look my way. My thoughts changed to physically harming _him_ – surely nobody would think twice if he showed up to school with a black eye and no memory of it's cause.

"Ten bucks on Scott and Stiles!" Malia yelled back.

"Make it twenty!" I added enthusiastically, dropping my cannister of Twizzlers and standing to my feet, arms crossed defiantly as I stared Coach down, daring him to say no.

"I'll take that action," the teacher agreed with a leer, spinning around to the boys. "Hey! Get back in there, Liam!" he shouted at the kid, and I watched with bated breath as the freshman set himself up for another shot.

"Come on, teen wolf," I muttered as the boys prepared for battle. "Kick some ass."

He didn't respond, but by the twitch of his lips from underneath his helmet, I figured he'd caught it.

The Coach blew the whistle, and the kid I now knew to be Liam began to run at Scott and Stiles, shoes slapping at the dirt with force as he propelled himself towards the pair. He was fast, but definitely not to a supernatural standard – maybe he really _was _just that good...

Then Scott slammed into him loud enough for a crack to make it to my ears. My eyebrows hit my hairline as the freshman was catapulted over Scott's shoulder, slamming into the ground with a muted thud and a dull groan.

I cheered shrilly, clapping my hands loudly before registering that nobody else seemed as excited. "Shit," I murmured suddenly, realising he could have been seriously injured. Sometimes I forgot how fragile humans could be. I tilted my head and focused on the kid's chest, double checking that he had survived the encounter. His heart was beating steadily in his chest, and I sighed with relief.

"Don't touch him!" Coach bellowed as the other players crowded around the body. He was probably worried about spinal damage, which made sense.

With a grunt the kid climbed unsteadily to his feet. "I'm alright Coach! I'm fine," he was insisting, even as he winced against the pain. "Argh," he grunted, tripping to the ground before Scott caught him, tossing his arm over his shoulder, Stiles on his other side, the pair holding the younger boy up. "It's my leg," the freshman admitted warily.

"I think we better get him to the nurse," Stiles told Coach, who nodded weakly, pointing in the direction of the school. They hurried off, and I remained on my feet, watching them go. Coach was yelling at the players, but I paid little attention, wondering whether I should follow after the boys just to make sure everything was okay.

I noticed the sound of a ball whizzing through the air, but didn't realise it was in our direction until I heard a startled gasp come from Malia. I spun around, blinking down at the were-coyote in surprise, noting that Kira had caught the ball in the spare lacrosse stick she'd picked up along the way.

Figuring the danger was over, I once more considered following after Scott and Stiles, but ultimately I decided they probably wouldn't want me hanging around like some kind of creepy shadow.

"I'm gonna head home," I told Malia, who gave no more than a grunt in acknowledgement. Uncaring, I hefted up my bag and turned to head off the field.

The inside of my car was warm, and I started it up, grimacing when it backfired loudly. The ride home felt longer than it was – maybe it was because I was, once again, completely and utterly alone.


	67. Back From The Edge

_Back from the edge_

_Back from the dead_

_Back before demons took control of my head_

_Back to the start_

_Back to my heart_

_Back to the boy who would reach for the stars_

Back From the Edge – James Arthur

* * *

Compared to the fresh stuff, bagged blood might as well have been liquid dirt. Still, it kept me alive, and it was definitely better than nothing; so though I loathed it, I still drank it down like a champ.

Once I'd been on it for a few months my tastebuds would adjust and it would be more bearable. Until then I just had to hold my breath and drink until I felt more myself.

I returned to my old hobbies, reading endless novels and listening to smooth, comforting jazz. It wasn't as fun as sex, drugs and rock &amp; roll, but it kept me calm and sane, making the hours pass slightly quicker than they otherwise might.

That particular night, the night after my tedious first day back at the high school, I decided to reread _Frankenstein_. It was a classic, and one of my many favourites. I sipped blood that I'd poured into a wine glass in an attempt to feel normal and classy (it wasn't working).

I was only up to chapter three before my cell phone began to ring, the tone sharp and unwelcome. I grimaced but answered it, tipping my head back against the armrest of my couch and staring up at my cracked ceiling.

"Hello?" I asked dully, licking my lips free of any stray blood.

"Jules?!" It was Lydia, and she sounded more than a little bit terrified; and when a Banshee sounded scared, _that _was when you began to panic.

"What's wrong?" I demanded, shooting up into a sitting position, relaxing my grip on the wineglass so I didn't shatter it and stain my rug with the blood it held. "Lydia, what's happening?"

"Where are you?" the girl asked in a rush.

"Home," I answered carefully. "Why? Where _should _I be?"

"The hospital," she responded shrilly. "You know the triple homicide?"

"Yeah?"

"The survivor, the son, he's at the hospital."

I paused, not understanding. "And?"

"And we – the deputy and I – found _bodies_ in their house," she revealed in a panicked whisper, like she didn't want someone overhearing. "Jules, they _aren't human_."

I was already climbing to my feet, depositing my half drained glass on the coffee table flitting to the other side of the room, shoving my feet into a pair of comfortable boots that were sitting idle by the door. "Anyone else at the hospital?" I asked quickly, looking down to make sure I was properly dressed before yanking open my door and stepping out into the frosty night air. I could drive, but realistically, it would be faster just to run. I could do triple what my beaten up, stolen, vandalised car could handle in my _sleep._

"Scott," she said worriedly.

"I'm on my way now," I replied, hanging up the phone and disappearing into the night. It felt amazing to be running at full speed, the soles of my shoes slapping against the concrete rhythmically, the sound almost a lullaby. The hospital was busy when I arrived, but nobody paid me any attention as I jogged into the reception area.

I sniffed, hoping to pick up on a scent, but I was overwhelmed by the sterile smell of disinfectant mixed with bagged, muted blood. I couldn't identify any scents at all, so I switched my focus to my ears, taking in the different sounds around me, trying to pinpoint Scott's unique heartbeat.

It wasn't easy to locate, I couldn't hear over the buzzing of activity flooding the hospital. It wasn't until I heard a familiar alpha's roar that I knew I'd found my target.

The elevators were too slow for my tastes, so I legged it up the stairs, bursting out onto the third floor, immediately accosted with the intoxicating scent of fresh blood.

I paused, blindsided and snarling with hunger.

Somebody had been hurt, but I knew I couldn't focus on that now. A woman was screaming, and I rounded the corner at full speed, coming to a screeching stop as I realised it was Melissa, sprawled across the floor, her scrubs caked red with blood.

"Melissa!" I yelled, appearing next to her abruptly enough to make her flinch.

Scott was fighting with a bloodied teen, but I was confident he had it handled. "Jules," his mom breathed, taking my offered hand, letting me pull her gently to her feet. "I'm alright," she insisted at my anxious expression. "Scott!" she exclaimed, and I turned around in time to see Scott slam into the wall and the other supernatural disappear around the corner.

I debated going after him, but Scott was my priority. "You good?" I yelled, shifting in front of the mother and son on the off chance it came back for more.

Scott didn't answer, more worried about his mom. "Are you okay?" he asked in concern. "Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she said again, breathing heavily as she held herself up on the bannister with shaky hands. "Go get that son of a bitch," she growled, and I smirked, shooting her a playful salute before shifting aside, letting Scott take point, jogging behind him, keeping my eyes and ears peeled for any sign of the new supernatural.

"What is it?" I asked him loudly, pushing my way passed a startled looking nurse, keeping my lips sealed to hide my growing fangs.

"I thought _you _knew!" he called back, coming to a sudden stop, sniffing the air before bursting his way into the stairwell. I followed without hesitation, hurrying up the stairs after him, taking in the bloodied handprints lining the off-yellow walls. I held my breath, refusing to let myself get distracted.

"No idea!" I told him loudly, grasping onto the railing above me and using it to propel myself up, I landed catlike on the landing, lifting a leg and slamming the heel of my foot into the door, watching with unbridled satisfaction as the wood cracked and the whole thing burst outwards. There was a rush of chilled air, and Scott brushed passed me, diving out onto the roof and whirling around, looking for the unidentified supernatural.

"Stay back!" a voice yelled, and I leapt back, spinning to get a good look at the creature, blood coating his face and chest, a human kid struggling desperately in his too-tight grip.

"Put him down!" I demanded furiously, unrestrained as I let my eyes flood with blood, veins turning black as I curled my lips back, revealing pearly white, deadly sharp fangs.

"You don't need to do this!" Scott yelled, his own faced 'wolfed-out', as Stiles had once called it. His eyes glowed a luminescent red, and his fangs protruded indelicately from his mouth. "Whatever it is; whatever you are, we can help you!"

"No you can't!" the kid yelled back, multiple rows of yellowed, sharklike teeth glinting in the lights above. The human in his grip grunted, struggling harder in an attempt to get free. I stepped forwards slightly, edging closer, but he noticed, choking the human tighter, making him gasp for air, tearing at the creature's hand with desperation to get free; to get air into his lungs.

"Let us help you," Scott was begging now, so desperate to save the boy, who was only here in the first place because of him.

"Wendigos don't need help," he spoke through pained sobs, I could only imagine what he'd gone through, losing his family in the way he had. Maybe he wasn't the bad guy...maybe he was like me, and just couldn't control it. "We need food!" he cried, holding the human tighter.

"Listen to me!" I shouted desperately. "I know what it's like!"

"No you _don't_!" he snarled as he cried. "You can't!"

"I do," I insisted, my voice loud but at the same time calm, trying to keep him steady. "You can't control it, the need to feed overrides everything else, until all you can see is red. _I get it_." He sobbed again, and the human in his grip was beginning to turn a concerning shade of purple. "I can help," I told him despairingly. "More than anyone else here, I can _help_."

The Wendigo paused, head tilting and watery eyes shining as he seemed to briefly consider my offer. Hope hit me, hope that maybe this wouldn't end in tragedy. Maybe somebody else like me could find redemption.

Unfortunately, the human took this opportunity to act, rearing back enough to get a good angle, then digging his teeth into the Wendigo's arm. It let him go with an enraged shout, and Scott moved impressively quickly, leaping up onto the risen block of concrete they stood on, but not before the Wendigo threw the human across the space, sending him catapulting over the edge.

Like Scott, I knew I had to move quickly. While the teen wolf went for the human in an attempt to keep him from plummeting to his death, I leapt at the Wendigo, aiming a kick at it's legs, taking them out from under him.

He hit the ground with a heavy thud, but that didn't stop him. He was fast, faster than a werewolf at any rate, and in an instant he was back on his feet, throwing himself at me with everything he had, eyes glinting like a maddened animal, jaws snapping dangerously.

I ducked his sloppy hits, but while I had clarity and logic on my side, he had pure, animalistic instinct, and he managed to clamp his teeth down on my shoulder.

"Mother-" I began to curse, wrenching myself back and landing a kick to his middle. He was in a frenzy, switching his attack from me to Scott in an instant.

"Jules!" Scott cried out from where he was half hung over the ledge.

"I'm working on it," I grumbled furiously, throwing myself at the Wendigo. The kid was in a frenzy, running on pure instinct and frenzy. He was incredibly strong, but that was no doubt because of the extra adrenaline in his system. I had focus on him, a human kid's life was at stake, I knew that, but when I heard footsteps from behind us and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end, I had no choice but to whirl around, just in time to get stabbed through the gut.

I blinked in shock, tilting my head down to stare at the weapon imbedded in my abdomen. It was a pickaxe, rusted but sharp, though luckily not coated with any vervain.

I look up, the man behind the attack was what threw me. He was tall, bald, and completely lacking a mouth; smooth, unbroken skin covered the spot where his lips _should_ have been. He reminded me of something, but with an axe in my stomach it was a little hard to recall from where.

He stepped forwards, grabbing the handle of the axe and yanking it unceremoniously from my gut, blood spilling out after it like water from a water gun. I dropped to my knees, cursing loudly as I reached up to cover the hole, my own blood trickling down over my fingers.

There were loud sounds from behind me, a few agonised screams, a werewolf's roar and a wet thud before more blood – this time not my own – drifted on the air.

I leaned down, collecting my strength slowly but surely. Finally, when the world stopped spinning, I looked up, blurry eyes catching sight of the mouthless man pressing a finger to the spot where his lips ought to have been, then stepping around the corner and disappearing from sight.

"What the fuck is going on?" I asked myself, pressing my forehead to the ground.

"You alright Jules?" Scott asked, appearing beside me, crouched low to the ground so we were level with one another.

"Give it a minute and we'll reassess," I grunted, the stream of blood from my gut slowly beginning to die off, the skin tediously knitting itself back together. "Think the human would mind if I tapped a vein?" I asked, half kidding as I groaned, taking Scott's offered hand and allowing him to gently drag me to my feet. I glanced over at the Wendigo, realising with a blow to the heart that he was dead, an axe wound left, clear as day, in the middle of his back.

"That might be a problem," the alpha murmured quietly, and I put my emotions aside with a pained wince and looked over at the kid, now collapsed against the wall, gripping a bleeding arm in pain, staring up at the pair of us like we were aliens. "I'm not so sure he _is _human anymore." He was swimming with guilt, I could tell, watching him as he stared down at his new beta in with regret.

"Are you _kidding _me?" I hissed, whirling around to slap the teen wolf in the chest, exasperated outrage painted across my face.

"What was I supposed to do? Let him die?" he asked, sounding stressed out of his mind. I sighed heavily, reaching up to rub at my eyes before remembering my hands were coated with blood. "Jules, what are we supposed to do?" he sounded meek, for once actually appearing to be his age.

"We can't stay here, this place will be crawling with cops in no time," I murmured, something of a plan forming in my head. "But we can't let him leave, either."

"So...what, then?"

"Meet me at your house," I told him quietly, watching the young boy closely as he stared up at us in terror. I realised my fangs were still out and quickly retracted them, turning back to Scott.

"We need Stiles," Scott insisted, and I had to admit that I agreed. "The people inside can't see you like this," he added, gesturing to my bloodied clothes and the gaping wound on my shoulder from where the Wendigo bite had yet to heal. "Go to the back of the hospital; I need to go check on my mom first, but I'll meet you there," he said gently, keeping his voice low so as to not alert the kid to our plans. "Hold him until I get there, then you run and find Stiles and bring him to mine."

"What are you going to do with him in the meantime?" I asked quietly.

Scott looked weary. "Occupy him," he answered vaguely. Sirens pierced the night air, heading this way – somebody had no doubt seen the bloodied Melissa and called the police.

"We need to move," I prompted the alpha, who swallowed but nodded quickly.

He shot the kid I knew to be _Liam_ a worried stare, the kid's heart racing from within his chest, his scent tinged with obvious terror. With a final glance at me, Scott disappeared into the hospital, leaving Liam to stare up at me in panic, probably wondering if I was about to murder him.

"Come on, kid," I told him, reaching down to grasp his bitten arm, yanking him none-too-gently to his feet. He cried out in fear, trying to wrench himself away from me, but I was too strong, my grip too tight. Quickly, I began to drag him over to the opposite side of the roof. He struggled, but I slapped a hand over his lips to keep him from screaming.

I leant over the edge, glancing down at the loading dock behind the hospital. It was clear of people, empty as everybody was no doubt busy with the Wendigo's casualties. Satisfied I stepped back, wrapping one arm around Liam who was shaking like a Goddamn leaf.

"Please don't throw up," I begged him softly. His eyes widened in alarm, but he could say nothing as I stepped off the edge, letting us free fall to the ground. The rush of wind made my hair a mess, but I was used to it, and I landed with all the grace of a cat, keeping an arm around Liam to hold him steady.

Thankfully he didn't puke, which I appreciated, and I was quick to yank him into the woods bordering the hospital, slipping behind a tree just as an ambulance pulled up outside the loading bay doors.

"What _are _you-?" Liam attempted to ask, his voice far too loud, so I once more slapped my hand over his mouth, muffling his cries as I shoved him violently up against a tree, peaking around the trunk and watching the doors closely, impatiently waiting for Scott to appear.

The new wolf continued to struggle, his heart beating so fast that I wondered whether it would fail before he could properly transition. "If I take my hand off, will you keep quiet?" I asked carefully, meeting his blue eyes. He didn't answer, but I figured he got the picture.

I slipped my hand from his mouth, and not a second later he was shouting, "help!"

I covered his mouth again, steadily growing impatient. "Do I need to knock you unconscious?" I asked him with false calm, meeting his eyes again, making my own glint their bloody red. His heart stuttered in terror and he struggled more violently, desperate to escape. "Oh, fuck it," I muttered, giving up and grabbing his head, unceremoniously slamming it into the tree trunk behind him.

His eyes flittered shut and he slumped onto me, unconscious.

Scott appeared not a minute later to find Liam splayed in a rather undignified position on the forest floor, me standing above him, a lazy sort of look to my relaxed features. "What the hell did you do to him?" the alpha demanded in a panic.

"He wouldn't stop struggling," I explained, attention only half on the conversation as I twisted around, trying to get a good look at the bite on my shoulder.

"So you knocked him _unconscious_?"

"You left me in charge, and I made an executive decision," I snapped irritably. I was sore, tired and hungry, but the night was still far from over. I wasn't in the mood to excuse my completely warranted behaviour to a sixteen year old kid. "Don't tell me it isn't easier this way."

Scott sighed, apparently too overwhelmed to bother arguing. "Go get Stiles," he instructed me, leaning down to pick the new beta up, throwing him over his shoulder as gently as he possibly could. "Fill him in, and then get him to tell his dad about what happened. But whatever happens, John _can't _know Liam was up there," he said quickly and seriously, telling me how important this detail was. "Meet at my house as soon as you can."

"You're the boss," I muttered. It may have sounded sarcastic, but it was wholly true, and I felt happy saying it. The circumstances may not have been ideal, but I was more than happy for things to be back to their regular ways; bloody clothes, unconscious kidnap victims and all.

We went in separate directions, Scott heading to his house while I went to Stiles'. The run helped clear my head, though it certainly didn't help my hunger. I remained ravenous, though there was little I could do about it. I'd have a chance to feed later, for now, I needed to deal with the new problem that had arisen in Beacon Hills.

The Stilinski household was empty of anyone but Stiles, the Sheriff no doubt out on the call to the hospital. Still, I didn't have a right to go barging inside, not anymore, so I knocked loudly at the front door, hands twisting together anxiously as I waited for Stiles to answer.

His first reaction to seeing me was to widen his eyes, blinking at my face in shock before he stared at the rest of me, a horrified, dejected look on his face. Confused I followed his line of sight, wincing when I realised I hadn't stopped to clean off the blood.

"Most of it's mine," I assured him quickly, the thought that he might think me a murderer again was like acid in my gut.

"What the _hell happened_ to you?" he demanded, exhaling sharply through his nose. "Get inside, before the neighbours see you and call the cops," he added, reaching out to grab my arm and yank me inside. His touch was like an electric shock, but I caught my breath as he shut the door behind us, quickly letting me go. "Come on," he said with a huff, beginning to head up the stairs. "You need to wash off the blood."

"There's no time," I told him quickly even as I followed him up to his room. "We need to get to Scott's."

"Why?" he asked, stepping into his bedroom and going for his chest of drawers, opening the top one and digging through his for a long minute before resurfacing with a handful of black fabric. I recognised them as my old clothes, a pair of jeans and a simple black tank top. "Go, wash off the blood and change – _then _you can explain what the hell is going on."

I did as I was told for once, slinking into the bathroom, catching sight of myself in the mirror as the door swung shut behind me. I looked like something from a bad horror movie, a chunk missing from my shoulder and blood covering every inch of my visible skin. I winced, quickly stripping and then picking up the soap bar, wetting and scrubbing at my skin in an attempt to get clean.

The bloody water dripped onto the floor, but I figured I could wipe that off later. Finally I just decided to jump into the shower, keeping the water scolding hot as I finished scrubbing off, drying myself with Stiles' towel, holding my breath and trying not to get lost in his familiar, addictive scent.

I changed into my clothes, thinking with a sad smile that it was rather marvellous that he'd kept them even after I'd disappeared. Maybe there was hope for me yet.

I reappeared in his room, taking a seat on his bed and watching as he stood by the window, staring out at the night with a wistful kind of expression on his face. Realising he didn't know I was there, I cleared my throat, and he jumped violently, whirling around to glare at me in annoyance. He opened his mouth, probably to make a comment about me wearing a bell or something I'd heard him say a thousand times before, but he promptly shut his mouth, instead frowning at me, spying the open wound on my exposed shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, padding across the room on bare feet until he got to me, then took a seat on the bed beside me. The close proximity made my breath hitch, I could feel the heat of his body from where I sat, but I kept my face carefully devoid of emotion, giving nothing away.

This was made more difficult when he reached up, his fingertips gently brushing against the smooth, unblemished skin surrounding the wound. My stomach muscles coiled, and I bit my tongue and closed my eyes, enjoying the way his touch made chills shoot down my spine.

"Does it hurt?" he asked me quietly, his minty breath washing over my face.

"No," I answered numbly, looking up to meet his eyes. He was already staring at me, a look of concern and adoration in his eyes, one I didn't deserve. I didn't know what it meant, and I couldn't handle not having all the information, I couldn't handle not having the upper hand. I shrugged him off, shuffling back on the bed so there was enough space between us for me to be able to breathe.

"What's going on?" he asked, frowning at the way I recoiled, but thankfully not mentioning it. "What happened?"

"It's a very long story," I told him, deciding I was still too close – particularly considering how hungry I was. His scent swam around me like hot air on a summer day. I stood to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest and pacing away from him, heading towards the window.

"What's the short version?" he asked, his voice oddly hollow. I didn't look back to see if his face matched.

"The homicides were done by a man without a mouth, the family was actually a den of Wendigos, and the night ended with Scott biting that Liam kid, who is now halfway through transition."

Stiles was absolutely silent, no sound but his racing heart filling the room. Reluctantly I turned around, meeting his bewildered stare. "Explain," he said slowly. "In detail."

I sighed, not particularly wanting to relive it but knowing it was important that Stiles knew. "And Scott thinks your dad should know – but whatever you do, _don't _mention Liam was there," I finished quickly. "If you do, he'll want to question him, and that's the last thing we need right now."

Stiles nodded, considering everything I'd said. "Where's Liam now?" he asked calmly.

"Scott has him at his house," I told him with a shrug that pulled uncomfortably at my still-healing wound. "Which is where we should be heading right now."

Stiles nodded, the action absent, like he wasn't completely in the room. I understood it was a lot to process, so I remained quiet, waiting for him to come to terms with what I had told him. He suddenly stood, marching over to his drawers and fishing out a green plaid shirt and holding it out to me with a steady hand.

I looked at it uncomprehendingly.

"You can't walk around town with a chunk missing from your shoulder," he told me with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "Cover it up before someone thinks it's the start of the zombie apocalypse," he added, pale lips quirked up in a small smirk that didn't match the haunted look in his eyes. Tentatively, like I was afraid he would rescind the offer, I took the shirt from his hand, resisting the urge to bury my nose in it and instead threading my arms through the sleeves. It was big, falling around my small, thin frame like a blanket. It was warm and soft, and I subtly burrowed into it, letting it's comfort encase me.

I glanced up, looking at Stiles closely. His face was scrunched up, and I would have given anything in that moment to be able to read his mind.

"Come on," he said unexpectedly, spinning around and swiping his keys from where they lay at the top of his dresser. "We need to get to Scott's before he panics and does something stupid. Again."

I followed him down the stairs, slipping out into the night and watching as he locked the house behind him. He pulled out his phone, already dialling his dad as he moved over to his Jeep and unlocked it. I paused, noting that he was on the wrong side of the car, over by the passenger side – did he expect _me _to drive?

My questions were answered when he cracked open the passenger door, stepping aside and motioning me to sit inside. Bemused by the action, I couldn't help but smile faintly, my lips tipped upwards in affection as I slipped past him, climbing up onto the seat and watching as he gently closed the door after me, walking around to the other side and getting in behind the wheel.

We remained idle as he spoke to his dad, relaying the (_mostly_ true) story to the Sheriff, who, from what I could hear, sounded relieved to know what had really happened. He hung up, conveniently not mentioning he was heading over to Scott's, or that I was with him.

The Jeep started with a familiar rumble, and for one blissful moment it was like nothing had ever happened, like everything was as it was two months ago, like our world and our relationship hadn't dropped out from under us so violently that we were still painstakingly gluing ourselves back together.

The moment ended all too soon, an unwelcome awkwardness creeping between us in the silence. Stiles reached forwards, turning on the stereo so that some kind of music filled the car, all drums and ukuleles, and I let the music wash over me as I dove.

I wasn't sure where we stood, but it was nice not to have the pressure of figuring it out, instead I could bask in Stiles' company, inhaling his scent, once more getting desensitised to it's appeal. It got harder the longer we sat, and I shifted uncomfortably.

"Mind if I put the window down?" I asked gently, my only words since getting in. He didn't answer, seeming to instantly understand as he flicked a button and my window rolled down, blissfully fresh air smashing into my face. I inhaled the clean air with relief.

When he pulled up outside the McCall residence, Scott was already waiting on the porch, the front door wide open, his silhouette glowing in the light from the inside. He reeked of anxiety, and even Stiles noticed his worry as we climbed from the Jeep and met him at the door.

"Are the police at the hospital yet?" Scott asked anxiously, heavy brow knitted together in concern. "Does your dad know?"

"I told him everything I could," Stiles replied as he followed his best friend into the house. I entered after, closing the door softly behind me, making sure it was locked, just because recent events had me somewhat paranoid.

"But you didn't tell him about Liam?"

"_I_ was barely told about Liam," he retorted with little patience. "What'd you do with him, anyway?"

"...he's upstairs," Scott said awkwardly, pausing at the foot of the staircase.

"Doing what?"

"Um..." the werewolf trailed off, his heart stuttering in his chest. "Lying down?" It definitely sounded more like a question than an answer.

"C'mon teen wolf," I prompted Scott impatiently. "Fess up, is the kid still knocked out?"

Stiles whirled around to pin me with a glare. "You knocked him _unconscious_?" he demanded with narrowed, frustrated eyes. Clearly he disapproved.

"He wouldn't stop screaming for help," I explained through a frown, and Stiles face-palmed, turning the action into another as he rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

"So?" he finally asked a restless Scott, sighing as he dropped his hands. "Where is he?"

"Uh..." Scott hummed, looking anxious. I tilted my head, listening for other sounds in the house, easily picking up the new werewolf's racing heart from where he was located somewhere upstairs. "It's probably easier if I just show you," the alpha finally murmured, turning around and marching up the staircase, leaving Stiles and I with nothing to do but follow.

He led us through to the bathroom which was built adjoined to his room. I was confused as I listened to the terrified sounds of heavy breathing got louder and louder the closer we got to the tub. Finally Stiles could hear it too, throwing me a bewildered look as he reached out, pulling back the shower curtain and revealing Liam, eyes wide in fright, bound with an excessive amount of duct tape. He tried to talk, but the words were muffled and unintelligible from under the piece of tape sitting firmly over his lips.

Stiles sighed heavily, the sound somewhere in the middle of defeated and exasperated. He shook his head like he was disappointed in Scott, closing his eyes as though praying for strength before reaching up and slowly drawing the curtain closed again. I stepped back into Scott's room, making space for the boys to follow through, each taking a seat on the end of the alpha's bed while I perched myself on his desk, crossing one leg over the other and resting my chin in my palm, watching them and quietly pondering the predicament we found ourselves in.

"...so you bit him," Stiles stated flatly, hands twisted together as he stared at the wall, lost in thought.

"Yeah," Scott breathed, still kind of in shock.

"...and you kidnapped him."

"Yeah."

"And you brought him here."

"I panicked."

"...this isn't going to end with us burying the pieces of his body out in the desert, is it?"

I smirked widely, bringing my hand up to subtly cover the movement, listening with amusement as Liam protested as much as he currently could from within the bathroom, bound and gagged as he was.

"As a reminder, _this _is why _I _always come up with the plans," Stiles said sternly, no doubt irritated by how difficult Scott had made things. If the kid wasn't a supernatural, I'd offer to compel him and we'd all be on our way to tea, but instead we were stuck with a transitioning werewolf bound by duct tape in Scott's tub, no way of making him forget this had ever happened. "Your plans _suck._"

"I know," Scott whispered back. "That's why I got Jules to get _you_." There was a pause, Stiles frowning irritably and Scott staring back hopefully. "So, what do we do?" he asked tentatively.

Stiles was quiet for a few long moments, no doubt piecing together something of a plan in that beautiful brain of his. "I think we need to just set him down and lay it all out for him," the Sheriff's son said confidently, nodding his head like he was agreeing with his own statement.

"How do we do that?" Scott asked carefully.

"We tell him the truth."

Scott looked surprised at the seemingly simple solution. "The truth," he repeated, like the concept was a foreign one.

"I think the wolf needs a pep talk," I said, heading towards the bathroom, swiping the roll of duct tape from the dresser as I went. "I'll secure him to a chair," I added, using my free hand to grab Scott's desk chair, dragging it behind me.

"You could at least act a _little _freaked out by the whole 'kidnapping' thing, you know!" Stiles called after me, sounding annoyed. Despite this, I couldn't help but smile, the whole thing feeling brilliantly normal.

I drew open the curtain, revealing Liam who grunted from behind his gag, glaring up at me angrily.

"I'm gonna tape you to this chair," I warned him, and his glare got more venomous. "Alrighty," I muttered, reaching down and picking him up by the lapels of his shirt, lifting him with a single arm and placing him gently as I could in the chair. Liam seemed momentarily stunned by the display of strength, but obviously couldn't comment on it.

With deft hands I secured his wrists to the armrests, then his body to the back of the chair. He squirmed, apparently not keen to go down without a fight.

"Calm down," I ordered him with an irritated roll of my eyes. "It's for your own good, pup."

He seemed bewildered by the nickname, but again, couldn't say a word. Once I was done I hefted up the chair, carrying it over to the middle of Scott's bedroom and placing it down in front of the boys, who both looked different degrees of awkward.

"Okay," Stiles began, clapping his hands together like a preschool teacher, making Scott grimace. "Liam, we're going to take the tape off your mouth," he warned sternly. "If you scream, it goes right back on; you talk quietly, it stays off – got it?" The kid glared with his eyes, and the phrase 'if looks could kill' drifted through my mind before he reluctantly nodded, and with an unenthusiastic wince Stiles reached out and ripped the piece of tape from his mouth. Liam gave a painful grunt, his blue eyes flickering between each of us warily. "Okay Liam...now, you've seen a lot of confusing things tonight, and more confusing things are going to happen _because_ of the confusing things that happened tonight," Stiles attempted to explain. "You understand?"

"Not really," Liam responded bitterly.

"I don't understand either," Scott muttered, but Stiles took it in stride.

"Maybe you should tell him," he said, patting his friend encouragingly on the chest.

"Me? Can't Jules tell him?" Scott sounded dangerously close to begging.

"Dude; your species, your problem," I threw in dryly.

"Not helping," Stiles all but sang, and I narrowed my eyes in irritation.

"Tell me what?!" Liam demanded angrily, interrupting the bickering before it could really begin and pulling our focus back to him.

Scott took a deep breath, preparing himself for the conversation to come. "Liam," he began, his heart speeding up anxiously. "What happened to you – what _I _did to you, which I _had _to do in order to save you – it's gonna change you."

"Unless it kills you," Stiles interjected, only to wince regretfully. "Shouldn't have said that..."

"_Now _who's not helping?" I mumbled snidely, and he turned to shoot me an unimpressed glare.

There was sniffle from the chair, and we all swung around to stare at the frightened child who had apparently begun to weep. "Uh-oh," Stiles muttered in horror. "Is he-is he crying?" he stumbled over the word, blinking in shock as we watched the kid tear up. "Juliet, you're a girl," he said, turning around to pin me with a hopeful look.

"No way – I can't deal with tears," I replied sharply. "That's where I draw the fucking line."

Stiles looked like he badly wanted to snap back, but Scott was already kneeling down by the crying kid's side. "Liam, it's okay – you're going to be alright," the alpha assured him soothingly. "You're not gonna die."

"Probably not," Stiles interjected, crouching down to their level.

"Would you stop?"

"Possibly."

"Would you just help me untie him?"

I stood back, uncomfortable as I watched the freshman sniffle pathetically. Scott and Stiles made quick work of the duct tape, and a beat later Liam was standing to his feet, head bowed lowly.

"Liam, are you okay?" Scott asked despairingly.

"We're sorry about...uh, we're really sorry," Stiles stumbled his way through an apology.

"We're only doing what's best," I added gently, though I knew that would be hard to convince him of. The kid turned away, and for a moment I thought it was because he wanted privacy to sob, but suddenly he grabbed the chair I'd tied him to, throwing it at Scott with impressive force, causing the alpha to collapse.

"Liam? What the hell is your prob-"

The pup cut Stiles off with a rough punch to the face, sending him careening to the floor. I stepped away, blinking in surprise at how fast it had all happened. He stared at me with wide eyes, and, bewildered, I raised my hands in surrender. With a relieved sigh he slipped passed me, darting into the hallway.

"What? Jules? Get him!" Stiles complained loudly.

"What am I meant to do? Knock him out again?" I asked with a frown. Something told me that, for once, violence wasn't the answer.

Scott and Stiles tripped out into the hall sloppily. "Get him!" I heard Stiles bellow, and I raised my eyebrows as I followed after them, pausing at the top of the stairs, watching as they tackled him down them, landing with muted thuds on the wooden floor.

There was a scuffle at the foot of the stairs, but Liam was quick, darting out into the night. I sighed, rubbing my temples and taking a seat on the steps, back rested up against the wall.

"Your plan sucked too," Scott muttered to Stiles sourly, both left staring at the open door.

Stiles whirled around to pin me with a glare. "Go get him!" he ordered me, and I shook my head.

"It'll only freak him out more," I said with outstanding patience. "Give him time. Once he starts noticing his new abilities, _he'll _come to _us_."

"He'd better," Scott murmured, staring pensively out into the night. "Or we're going to have a _serious_ problem on our hands."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you like this one, things are beginning to get back to normal. Happiness and fluff is on the horizon! **

**Also, if you guys could go check out the poll on my profile? That would be awesome! I'd love some feedback. Love you all! xo**


	68. Bedroom Window

_As I look out my bedroom window_

_I see all the chaos that's calling me_

_So the wind blows wherever it will go_

_It's all too much for me_

_All of this emptiness I've been sharing_

_It never comes when I want it to_

_I can be anything I've forgiven_

_Me and you, me and you_

Bedroom Window – The Pretty Reckless

* * *

Stiles offered to drive me home, which was unnecessary, but highly welcomed. I tried not to seem too eager as I accepted, hopping into his Jeep and letting the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar fill the space between us as it drifted from the radio.

"Listen," he began, surprising me. I'd had my face turned away, half buried in the plaid shirt I'd borrowed from him, inconspicuously basking in his intoxicating scent. I spun around to look at him, trying not to look guilty. He was staring at the road, not seeming to have noticed. "Tomorrow's the full moon, and Malia...well, she could use a hand with it."

I paused, waiting for him to continue, but he seemed to be finished. "What does that have to do with me?" I asked in confusion.

"Well, I thought you could spend the day with her, let her know she isn't alone."

"Why _me_?"

"Because you're a girl," he said, and my curious expression morphed into a glare. "All I mean is, she could use a female friend, and you guys _are_ scarily similar sometimes. I think it would be good for the two of you to...bond," he told me, seeming perfectly sincere.

"I don't know how much use a vampire will be to a were-coyote..." I trailed off.

"You've experienced similar things," he admitted, his voice dropping to a quiet hum, his heart speeding up in his chest. "You've both...killed before," he seemed to have trouble saying it, and though the mention made me grimace, I knew he had a point. "Look," he said, trying a new tactic. "She's coming over in the morning to grab a ride to school, we're gonna go over the preparations then." I was silent, waiting for more. "You could...come?"

I considered it. I wanted to spend time with Stiles, and Malia seemed like someone I could end up liking, I supposed. The two of them seemed to have become close friends in the time I'd been away, and if I wanted to catch up, I knew I had to get to work.

"Okay," I agreed easily. "I'll come over in the morning."

"Great," he nodded, looking abruptly uncomfortable. "Good."

He pulled up outside my house, and I shot him a gentle smile. "Until then, Stiles," I said softly, staring at him, noting the way his eyes shone in the moonlight.

"U-until then," he parroted, and with a final smile I climbed from the Jeep, deciding that I would keep his shirt until he asked me to give it back – a day I hoped would never come.

I didn't sleep that night, too wired from the day before to bother trying. I went through five blood bags before I took an hour long bath and read two novels, listening to jazz until the sun came up, and then laying into my punching bag until it was time to get to Stiles'.

I still had time to kill, so I stopped off at the local coffeeshop, ordering three piping hot coffees (plus an empty one which I then filled with blood) and collecting them before strolling to the Stilinski household. Someone was in the shower when I arrived, another in the kitchen. Clearing my throat for no real reason and running a self-conscious hand through my hair, I knocked on the door, waiting impatiently until the Sheriff pulled it open, blinking down at me in shock.

"Juliet?" he asked like he didn't quite believe it was me.

"Howdy, Sheriff," I greeted him pleasantly, shooting him my most convincing smile, hoping that if I acted like I didn't feel awkward, eventually the sensation might go away. "I brought coffee," I said, brandishing my tray of beverages. He eyed them like he was pondering whether I'd dosed them with something, and I took one out, holding it out to him enticingly. "Black and strong, just how you like it," I said sweetly, pretending like my whole sense of self-worth didn't depend on how he reacted.

He finally took the cup, sniffing it cautiously before taking a sip, nodding to himself then pausing. "I don't know whether I should invite you in, or..." he trailed off uncomfortably.

"You only have to do it the once," I told him, the conversation starkly reminiscent of when he'd first discovered what I was.

"Right," he muttered, taking another sip of his coffee, the look in his eyes suggesting he was deep in thought. Finally he stepped aside, gesturing my inside his home. I stepped over the threshold, stopping in the entryway and letting him close the door after me. He turned to face me, and we were silent for a few long moments, both watching each other, wondering what to say. "You were gone," he eventually said, staring at me closely from over his coffee cup.

"I was," I agreed morosely, nodding my head once, keeping my eyes on him.

"It nearly destroyed him," he stated, and it wasn't hard to guess who he meant. Guilt churned in my gut, heavy and painful, like lead dipped in molten lava. "He didn't always show it – but I could tell, I could see it in his eyes."

"It was what was best," I told him, noting that I was beginning to sound like a broken record. He took another careful sip of coffee, eyeing me contemplatively. "I regret leaving," I admitted gently. "But it had to be done."

"And you're back now?" he questioned sharply. "For good?"

"Yes."

"How can I trust that?"

I didn't have an answer, but I didn't look away, merely staring back as strongly as I could, guiltily wishing I could use compulsion, then hating myself for the urge.

"Why are you back?" he tried a different question this time.

"Because I want to be here, more than anything. This has become my home."

"And you're...better, now?" he asked, referring to my slip in control.

I winced, finally unable to hold his stare, ashamed as I focused my eyes on a scuff in the floor. "I'll always be a vampire, Sheriff," I said boldly, keeping my eyes on our feet, finding it impossible to look up, too afraid of what I might see if I did. "If there was a way to change that, I would."

"Do you want to get back together with my son?"

"I want to be in his life," I responded evenly, reluctantly forcing my eyes up to meet his stare. "Whatever form that takes, so be it."

John nodded, careful and considering. Footsteps sounded on the floor above us, and I looked up at the staircase in time for Stiles to trip into view, hair wet and dressed in jeans and a simple blue shirt. "Dad, who're you talking-" he began, only to cut himself off when he met my gaze.

"Good morning," I greeted him gently. "I brought coffee," I added, holding up the tray of drinks and giving them a little shake, hoping the action didn't seem awkward.

"Right," John murmured, eyes flickering between the two of us thoughtfully. "Well, I'll leave you to it." He turned and marched into the next room, and Stiles was quiet for a beat before waving me after him.

"Come on," he said, and in the blink of his eyes I was waiting by his bedroom door, one of the coffees held out for him. He started in surprise, then swallowed and began forwards, taking the cup from me with a muttered thanks and heading into his room. "Sleep well?" he asked conversationally, leaving the door open as he moved over to his desk.

"No," I answered honestly.

Stiles snorted in bitter amusement. "Yeah," he muttered. "Me neither."

I wanted to ask more; was he having night terrors? Did he feel ill? Was his insomnia back? Was something worrying him? But before I could voice any of these questions, there was a noise in the leaves outside the house, and I froze, listening as someone began to scale the wall.

"Um, somebody's climbing your wall," I said confusedly, wondering if I should have been concerned.

"That'll be Malia," he nodded, and in the next moment the were-coyote was pushing up the window, slipping into the room and landing deftly on the carpet. Although it didn't put me at ease to know Malia had apparently made a habit of this, I still smiled at her as warmly as I could, offering her the remaining coffee.

She took it warily, sipping it tentatively before sniffing the air.

"Why do I smell blood?" she asked bluntly, a suspicious glint in her dark eyes.

I lifted the final coffee cup with a forced smirk. "That'd be my breakfast," I said as lightly as I could, and though Malia gave a disgusted grimace, she thankfully didn't comment. "I hear you're having some trouble with the moon," I began, hoping forced conversation might clear the awkward from the room.

"Yeah," she said sharply. "What's it to you?"

"I know what it's like to not be in control of yourself like that," I said gently, keeping my eyes firmly on her, refusing to look over at Stiles although I could feel the weight of his stare on the side of my face. "I thought that, maybe, you could use a friend."

She only seemed to grow more wary at the prospect.

"Plus, the number of people _I _can call friends has significantly dropped recently," I admitted, chin tilted up to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I could use a friend, myself."

She watched me through narrowed eyes before finally grunting and taking a seat on Stiles' bed. I noticed Stiles heft a huge duffel bag from the floor, sitting on the bed next to her and plopping it between them.

"What's in this bag of goodies, then?" I asked, drawing Stiles' desk chair closer to them, straddling it comfortably and holding my cup of blood in one hand, the other reaching into the bag to pull out a thick chain, testing the weight with an impressed hum.

"I hate full moons," Malia muttered sourly, eyeing the shackles with heavy contempt.

"It's gonna get easier, I promise," Stiles assured her, holding a neck restraint in steady hands.

"It better," she said, taking the thing from him and holding it up, assessing it closely. "'Cause this isn't gonna hold much longer," she added, pointing to the tear in the fabric.

"I've got some you can use," I offered, swinging slightly on the chair.

"Why do _you _have restraints?" Malia asked confusedly. "You're not a werewolf."

"Kind of a funny story-" I began conversationally, twisting one of the chains around my hand, but Stiles cleared his throat and I glanced over, noting his stern look telling me in no uncertain terms to _not _tell Malia about my days as a BDSM torture mistress in France back in the seventies. "Actually, it's not that funny," I backtracked, dropping the chain and clearing my throat. "But they'll definitely fit you – I'll bring them tonight," I promised her, and she nodded though the curious glint to her eyes remained.

"Yeah, well, we might need them for Liam," Stiles added, gesturing for her to hold out a hand, beginning to wrap the restraint around her wrist as a test.

"You guys sure he's going to turn into a werewolf?" she asked.

"We're not even sure he's going to live," he replied morbidly, yanking at the chains firmly. "Is that too tight?" he asked softly.

"No," she shook her head.

"You'll want them tight," I warned gently. "Trust me, it's gonna be rough-"

I realised there was a heart beating from behind us and turned, blinking innocently at the Sheriff who stood in the doorway, eyeing the three of us in wary disgust. "Hey, um-" Stiles began awkwardly, glancing from between the two of us girls to the thick chains we had wrapped around Malia's wrists. "This-this is not what you think. At all."

"I don't even wanna know," John decided, abruptly turning and leaving the room.

"There's nothing to know!" Stiles called out after his father.

"I don't get it," Malia murmured.

"It's because-" I attempted to explain through an unbridled smirk.

"We-we don't need to go into that," Stiles shook his head, miming a cutting motion at his throat, cheeks a familiar, blotchy red.

Pausing, I turned to Malia. "I'll explain later," I promised with a cheeky wink that Stiles missed, and though still confused, she nodded, allowing the blushing human to tug the restraints from her arm and toss them back into the bag. "So, what's the plan, exactly?" I questioned, leaning back in my chair and cocking a brow at Stiles curiously.

"Lydia's family's lake house," he revealed, snatching the remaining restraints from my hand and stuffing them into the duffel bag, zipping it up loudly. "We've been using it for the last two full moons. It's away from the town, so nobody can overhear the screams."

"That's always a plus," I agreed. We were quiet for a moment, and Stiles took the opportunity to check his bag was properly packed. "Do you think a were-coyote bite is like a werewolf bite? Would it be fatal on a full moon?" I pondered aloud, turning my stare to Malia, who blinked back owlishly.

"I have no idea," he replied, fishing through his backpack. "But I'm not willing to test out the theory, so we'll be taking extra precautions, particularly since Liam will likely be joining us on our little night trip," he added with a sour grimace.

"What do you do with were-coyote over here?" I asked, but Malia only blinked, not seeming to mind that I wasn't directing the question at her.

"Basement," Stiles admitted, and I caught the grimace Malia gave in response to the answer. Clearly she was less than pleased with the arrangements. "Come on," he prompted us, shouldering his backpack and heading for the door. "We're gonna be late, and we _have _to find Liam and figure out what's happening."

"You mean whether he's dying or not," Malia stated bluntly.

"Yes, thank you, Malia," Stiles huffed in exasperation, rolling his eyes and holding the door open as he waved us both through. I let Malia go first, trailing behind and sipping my warmed blood, shooting Stiles a tiny, tentative smile as I passed.

The drive to school was made in relative silence. Malia wasn't a particularly talkative individual, and Stiles was too anxious to bother making conversation. I busied myself with listening to the radio and staring up at the sky, which was cloudy, like we were about to get a storm.

"Where is he?" Stiles asked before we'd even fully stepped onto the school grounds. Malia gave a rough grunt of a goodbye, heading off in the other direction with a determined look on her face. I turned to Stiles, raising an eyebrow.

"How should I know?" I asked defensively when he stared at me expectantly, holding onto the strap of my bag tightly.

"We need to find him," he said quickly. "He's either dying or turning, and either way, we're gonna have a mess to clean up."

Had Scott been there, a comment would have been made about Stiles' callousness, as it was, he was stuck with me, so I merely nodding acceptingly, grasping onto the strap of my bag and starting forwards across the quad.

"Are you prepared for that?" I asked curiously, my strides long and lazy while Stiles staggered after me clumsily.

"Prepared for what?" he asked distractedly, dodging out of the way of an oncoming senior.

"For Liam to die," I elaborated, and his steps faltered before picking up their uneven rhythm.

"It isn't like a know the kid," he said, shrugging his shoulders casually, only to grimace immediately after. I longed to know what had crossed his mind, but didn't dare ask, keeping my lips wisely sealed. "Did you catch his scent yet?" he questioned, and I could tell by the nervous stammer of his heart that he was attempting to change the subject.

I allowed it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "This way," I nodded, taking a sharp left into the building and speeding up. "He isn't far," I added, sniffing the air and cringing as I inhaled a new wolf's scent. I was desensitised to the current pack, this new addition would take some getting used to.

"If he does die, you'll know what to do with him?" he asked curiously, glancing over his shoulder warily.

"Depends," I hummed. "Are we talking 'body found' or 'no body found'?"

"For argument's sake, let's say 'body found'."

"Animal attack," I shrugged. "It's the easiest to fake. That or drowning."

"And 'no body found'?"

"Burn it, obviously," I rolled my eyes. "I honestly don't know why more serial killers don't do it," I added thoughtfully, pressing my lips together as I considered. "Great way to get rid of the physical evidence."

"Good thing we're talking in hypotheticals," the human muttered under his breath, and I had just turned around to question him when the sound of a racing, frantic heartbeat met my ears, along with the stench of the new wolf and a wave of reeking anxiety.

"Pup alert," I hissed to Stiles, who shot upright, spinning in a circle in a search for the freshman. "The hall over," I prompted him when he shot me his most helpless look. With a grunt he spun and took off, feet slapping against the floor. I followed at a more leisurely pace, running a hand casually through my hair as I rounded the corner, setting eyes on the two brothers cornering the younger kid between them.

"We need to talk!" Scott was saying sternly, and Liam's heart rate picked up even more.

"You need to back the hell up!" the freshman snapped back. "Both of you!"

"Can you just listen for one second?" Scott implored desperately. "Please?"

"No!" he growled, shoving Stiles out of the way and making a break for it. With an exasperated sigh I caught him by the shoulder, unceremoniously yanking him back into the otherwise empty hallway. He gave a startled yelp but thankfully fell slack in my hold.

"Hear him out, or I'll make your life a living hell," I warned lazily, keeping a supernaturally tight hold on his arm. Though he hesitated, he eventually nodded, a wary look on his boyish features.

"You can let him go," Scott assured me, and I tossed the kid a final warning glare before relaxing my grip. He pulled away, reaching up to rub at the place I'd no doubt bruised. Scott swallowed thickly, clearly struggling with what to say. I'd have offered my services, but I already had a were-coyote on my hands, I didn't feel like taking a wolf under my wing either, besides, if our last three encounters were anything to go by, it would take a lot more than a charming smile and a good pep talk to make him trust me. "Liam..." Scott began, and I stepped back to Stiles' side, being very careful not to let my skin brush his, "...we're brothers now."

There was a pregnant pause.

"What?"

"Oh God, that's..." Stiles groaned, hanging his head, probably giving up hope. I sucked in an exhausted breath, reaching up to press my fingers to my temples, hoping it would ease the impending headache of exasperation.

"What are you talking about?" Liam demanded impatiently. "We just met, and you _bit_ me!"

"The bite...the bite is a gift," the alpha told him stiltedly, an awkward, pained sort of look on his face.

"Scott, stop." Clearly Stiles couldn't handle it any more than I could. "You," he said, pointing an angry finger at a scowling, confused Liam, "we are trying to _help_ you, you little runt."

"By kidnapping me?" the youngster asked sarcastically.

"Just to clarify – Scott kidnapped you," Stiles murmured to the budding wolf, reaching up to awkwardly scratch at his face. "I...aided and abetted."

"Now's when you shut up," I hissed at him, and he nodded with a wince, knowing he was only making things worse.

"Liam," Scott said, distracting the infuriated looking kid. "I've gone through this before. Something's happening to you...something big."

"Nothing's happening to me," Liam insisted darkly. He held up his bitten arm, ruthlessly ripping off his bandage, revealing nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. "Nothing," he growled, but our eyes were drawn to his healed bite.

He turned to leave, but once again my arm snapped out, blocking his exit. He turned to me, no fear in his expression, but rather a daring, seething anger. I met his gaze unflinchingly, teeth grit together in frustration. I felt the urge to flash my bloody eyes, but Scott's voice stopped me.

"It's okay, Juliet," he said, his eyes focused on the new beta. "Let him go."

Although I didn't believe that to be the right call, I respected Scott's judgement and reluctantly removed my arm. With a dark glower Liam turned and strode away, hands balled into tight fists, held at his sides.

He disappeared around the corner, storming off like a child throwing a tantrum. "Great," Stiles sighed, running a hand through his brilliant hair. "What the hell are we supposed to do now?" he asked. "Full moon's in eight hours," he added, as though we needed reminding.

"Get the others," Scott instructed, still staring off after the kid, a worried look in his brown eyes. "We need to come up with a plan."

"I'll get Malia and Kira, they have Bio together," Stiles said quickly, turning and beginning to head away. "Jules, go get Lydia in study hall."

I didn't get a chance to accept or decline the task, both boys disappearing from the corridor where we were stood. In a way, it was almost like nothing had ever happened – the only difference was, now, Stiles didn't glance back at me lovingly as he walked away.

Study hall wasn't that busy, the room in the library only half full of students. Lydia was easy to find, her head of familiar strawberry-blonde hair stood out from the rest. I dropped into the empty chair beside her, kicking my feet up on the chair opposite her and leaning back, watching as she didn't so much as flinch at my abrupt appearance, pretty green eyes remaining focused on the pages in front of her.

"You've been summoned," I said casually, picking up one of the red pens decorating the desk and twirling it absently around my fingers.

"By who?" she asked, sounding distracted as she copied something down on her notepaper.

"The alpha," I said ominously, but she knew I merely meant Scott, and gave no other reply than a gentle roll of her eyes, continuing to write in soft, looping letters. "Come on," I prompted her, nudging her pointedly. "It's about tonight," I added in a whisper, and finally she looked away from her work only to immediately begin packing up her belongings.

"You'd better go 'convince' Mrs Snyder to let me out of class," she murmured back delicately, and with a triumphant grin I slid to my feet, tossing my bag back over my shoulder and heading up to the front desk.

Once the deed was done, I met her at the door, the other students watching in envy as I led her from the room.

"Did they end up catching up to Liam?" the banshee asked as we walked, and I lifted my shoulders in a lazy shrug, my hands shoved into my pockets.

"He wasn't particularly receptive," I revealed with a grimace, glaring at a group of freshman girls clumped in the middle of the hallway until they parted with soft, terrified squeaks.

"Great," Lydia murmured, reaching up to tug at a strand of long, perfectly curled hair.

The others were already gathered out the back of the school by the buses, away from little, prying ears. "Finally," Stiles rushed out like we'd taken too long. "We need some kind of a plan," he continued on hurriedly, hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack. "Somehow we need to get Liam into the lake house's basement before the moon rises. Any thoughts? Anyone?"

"Um, I'm _not_ sharing my basement," Malia interjected, an irritated scowl on her face.

"Actually, it's _my _basement," Lydia corrected smoothly. "And my mom noticed how you tore it up last time," she added with a deprecating smile.

"Alright, she's still learning," Stiles cut in with a defensive huff.

"We're gonna use the boat house for Liam. It's got support beams, we can chain him to one of them," Scott said, calming Malia's worries.

There was a pause. "So, how do we get him out to the lake house if he doesn't trust us?" Kira was the one to ask, an anxious look on her face.

"I say, if it keeps him from murdering someone, we just chloroform the little bastard and throw him in the lake," Stiles suggested darkly, and I pressed my lips together tightly in dark amusement.

"I'm in!" Malia said with an apathetic shrug.

"Me too!" I added cheerfully, to absolutely nobody's surprise.

"We're not killing _or _kidnapping him," the alpha laid down the law.

"Again," I muttered sourly, trying not to make my pout too obvious as I crossed my arms over my chest sulkily. Why could we never do things the easy way?

"Then let's be smarter," Lydia piped up rationally. "We'll tell him there's a party and invite him."

"You're gonna ask out a freshman?" Stiles asked dubiously.

"I'm done with teenage boys," the banshee replied offhandedly. "_But_, if we're playing a trick on somebody – let's use the Trickster..."

For one heart wrenching moment I was thrown back to the horror show that was the end of last year. My mind was suddenly filled with terrified screams and the intoxicating stench blood and hungry snarls and sexy, breathtaking smirks that made my ache beyond belief.

Somebody's elbow jabbed into my ribs, and I snapped out of my unpleasant stupor with a sharp exhale, turning to lay eyes on Malia, who wasn't giving me a second glance, acting like she hadn't just nudged me from my daze. She must have sensed my panic, and I was silently grateful for the distraction.

"Who, me?" the kitsune was asking from across the space, her heart racing with anxiety. "No way, not me."

"Yes, you," Lydia responded quickly, something of a smirk appearing on her peachy lips. "You know what they call a female fox?" she asked, but Kira could do no more than blink back uncomprehendingly. "A vixen."

There was a pregnant pause. "Me?" the kitsune asked in a small, weak voice.

I let my eyes rake down her form, taking in her conservative clothes and unconfident grimace. "Go on, Kira," Lydia encouraged. "Be a vixen."

"I – I wouldn't even know where to start," she responded nervously, beginning to tug at her clothes like they were choking her.

"Cleavage," I piped up flatly, resting my weight back against the yellow paint of the bus behind me. Kira's eyes went wide in terror at the word. "Seriously, pop a few buttons. Also, try not to look like you're about to throw up – it sends the wrong message," I added callously.

"Jules," Scott snapped at me, shooting me a very strong 'what the hell?' expression.

"Just figured she could use some tips from someone who spent the better half of two hundred years conning humans in order to survive," I muttered sourly, kicking at the gravel beneath my feet.

"Kira isn't like you," Scott said softly, casting his crush a fond look. "She's...sweet."

"Scott's right," Lydia agreed. "But you can use that to your advantage."

"Maybe we should just let Juliet do it," Malia spoke up, a frown covering her face. "_She_ clearly knows what she's doing."

"He already knows I aided Scott in his kidnapping," I said regretfully, casting the alpha an annoyed glance. He had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Also, pretty sure he got a good look at my fangs the other night – he's not gonna go to any party _I_ invite him to, that's for sure."

There was another pregnant pause, and I couldn't help but tune in to her racing pulse.

"Calm your heart before you go into cardiac arrest," I told her quickly, and with a gasp she reached up to press a hand over her heart like it would muffle the sound. I just barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. "You'll be fine, Kira," I assured her, and the mousy little thing looked shocked by my encouraging words. She'd only really known me when I was evil, so I could understand her surprise.

"Come on," Scott said, attracting the kitsune's attention, and I was relieved to be out from under the pressure of everyone's attention. There was a shrill ringing from the main building as the bell sounded, signalling the beginning of the next class.

"Can you text me the address to the lake house?" I asked Lydia quietly before she could run off, and she nodded.

"Do you need a ride?"

"Nah," I shook my head. "I can get there."

With a polite smile she nodded, murmuring something to Malia about math and beginning to lead her away. Though itching for a fix of blood, I instead settled and leaning back against the bus and fishing a cigarette from my bag, holding it up to my lips and lighting it with a flick of my lighter. The sun beat down on me, bright and unforgiving, leaving me feeling weak despite the daylight ring sitting firmly on my finger.

"I thought I convinced you to give that up?" Stiles' voice said from behind me, and I flinched at the sudden sound, shocked that I hadn't realised he was still there. I supposed I was heavily distracted, my mind incredibly loud thanks to the flashbacks that Lydia's words had unknowingly triggered.

I calmed myself, resolutely not looking at him, staring at the bus in front of me, inhaling the chemicals in an effort to silence my brain. "Old habits die hard, I suppose," I murmured back, my free fingers tugging at the loose threads in my old, ripped up jeans.

"It's winter, you know?" he said, and the odd comment threw me.

"I'm aware," I replied flatly, unable to understand the relevance.

"You're wearing a midriff top," he continued, and I glanced down at my attire with a furrowed brow.

"Is the skin I'm showing making you hot?" I teased unthinkingly.

Only, instead of bantering back, he grimaced deeply, his mouth twisted down and his heart stuttering in his chest. "Don't do that," he mumbled, eyes firmly focused on the ground and his jaw clicking with some unnamed emotion.

I'd forgotten myself, forgotten everything I'd done, everything we'd been through, and everything that had changed. "Sorry," I apologised, the word stale on my lips. "What do you need?" I asked, because what other reason could he possibly have for sticking around once everybody else had already left?

"I have a job to do, and I could use your particular set of skills," he told me, confidence creeping back into his tone as he lifted his chin, warm brown eyes meeting cool, detached green.

"Name it," I promised, not for a moment wavering. I wasn't sure there was anything I _wouldn't_ do for him at this this point – I'd even kill, but that much I'd already proven. Somehow I figured _this_ favour wouldn't be as sinful.

"We need to find out more about Liam," he began quickly.

"Why?" I interjected.

"To make sure we didn't just give a mentally-unstable mental patient supernatural abilities," he responded like it was obvious and I was slow for not picking it up sooner.

"Stiles, _you _just got out of an asylum," I pointed out slowly, something of an ironic smirk growing on my lips.

He shot me a glare that definitely screamed 'you're not helping'. "One: I'm _not_ a newly turned werewolf; and two: I was possessed, not crazy – totally different circumstances," he hissed back irritatedly. I flinched at the mention of Void, and Stiles' expression dropped in something like guilt, which only made _me _feel guilty. It was a vicious, unhealthy cycle, and one I wasn't in the mood to get stuck in.

"So, why do you need me for this task?" I asked, crossing my arms and tilting my chin up as though completely unaffected.

"Compulsion," he replied in a 'duh' sort of tone.

"Who?"

"The administrative assistant in the office," he said, glancing over his shoulder like he was checking for eavesdroppers. "We need to get Liam's file."

"You've stolen files before," I said confusedly. "Why do you suddenly need _me_?"

Stiles' face fell. "What? You don't want to work with me?" he asked, sounding defensive and oddly angry.

"The opposite," I snapped back, equally defensive. I inhaled deeply, calming myself. This wasn't helping anyone. If Stiles was bewildered by my answer, he didn't show it in any way other than the picking up of his pulse.

"The file's restricted, under lock and key," he revealed quietly, heart still hammering away as he twisted his fingers together absently. "Can't get to it without you."

I nodded, telling myself not to be such a bitch for once and just do as I was asked. "Come on," I nodded towards the main building. "I'll do it now, while everyone's in class."

He nodded back, clutching his bag tighter as he walked, his sneakers hitting the ground with muted slaps. I tried to think of something to say, some comment or question to break the tense silence that had filled the space between us like a bad scent, only I couldn't come up with a damn thing.

The walk to the office continued in silence.

Although it was the middle of winter, the air conditioning was on full blast in the school's administration office, and I noted how Stiles shivered with the drop in temperature.

"Can I help you, students?" the lady behind the desk asked, red hair frizzy and thick spectacles sitting over her eyes like magnifying glasses. Her voice was chipper and friendly, and I could tell she'd been chewing on the end of her pencil.

I smiled back calmingly, pacing forward so I was standing at the desk, leaning over slightly to meet her eyes through her comical glasses. "What's your full name?" I asked her as I enlarged my pupils, drawing her in like a moth to a flame.

"Angela Janet Kennedy," she responded flatly, unblinking as she stared back, enraptured and caught in my alluring stare.

"What was that?" Stiles asked in surprise from behind me, shooting me a frown of irritation.

"Checking for vervain, Stilinski," I said back without breaking my eye contact with the administrator. "Now, you're going to give me Liam..." I paused with a huff. "What's the kid's last name?" I asked Stiles impatiently.

"Dunbar," he quickly supplied.

"You're going to give me Liam Dunbar's file, and then you're going to forget you saw us here."

I blinked, and in a perfect trance, the middle-aged woman stood to her feet numbly, turning like a zombie and padding over to the door in the back of the room and disappearing behind it. I could hear the clinking of keys and groaning of drawers being opened, and glanced over my shoulder at Stiles, who was looking down at his hands, an odd kind of smile playing at his lips.

I desperately wanted to ask what he was thinking, but stopped myself. It wasn't my place; I didn't deserve to know. His mind was his own, I no longer had any claim to it.

The receptionist wandered back into the room, shutting the door behind her robotically and approaching us slowly, blindly extending the arm holding the thick file. "Thank you," I said unnecessarily, grimacing even as I said it. Without responding, she took a seat on her chair and began to type away at her computer like we weren't even there. "This way," I prompted Stiles, turning and quietly exiting the room, immediately taking a seat on the chairs out in the hall. "Let's see what kind of skeletons this kid has in his closet, shall we?" I asked with a large, eager smirk.

Stiles eagerly collapsed into the seat beside me, all but snatching the file from my hands in his enthusiasm and prying it open, caramel eyes scanning the page thoroughly.

I wasn't sure how close to him I could stand being, but nonetheless I leaned over, opting to hold my breath as my own eyes ran efficiently down the page, taking in the words written much faster than the human could.

"Oh," I muttered, and Stiles looked up sharply, concern splashed across his face.

"What?" he asked warily, head diving back down to the paper.

I reached out, pressing a finger to the correct paragraph. He exhaled loudly as he read what I'd discovered, pulse speeding up, and not in the good way. We continued to read, taking in the words with weary eyes; this didn't bode well for any of us. From above us, the bell rang, and I knew any second students would flood the hall. "We need to go," I said, snatching the file back and disappearing into the office to compel the poor woman to put it back.

We already had everything we needed to know.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everybody. If you haven't already, I'd love for you to go check out the poll on my profile! Also, I didn't get much response last chapter, just wanna make sure you guys are liking what I'm doing. I love to hear opinions and theories, I thrive off of them! **

**Love, love, love to you all! x**


	69. Help I'm Alive

_I tremble_

_They're gonna eat me alive_

_If I stumble_

_They're gonna eat me alive_

_Can you hear my heart_

_Beating like a hammer_

_Help I'm alive_

_My heart keeps beating like a hammer_

_Hard to be soft_

_Tough to be tender_

_Come take my pulse the pace is on a runaway train_

_My regrets are few_

_If my life is mine_

_What shouldn't I do?_

_I get wherever I'm going_

_I get whatever I need_

_While my blood's still flowing_

_And my heart's still_

_Beating like a hammer_

Help I'm Alive – Metric

* * *

I spent the afternoon gorging on blood and lifting weights, preparing myself for the night ahead. I remained dressed in my holey jeans and long top, but changed into more practical shoes, knowing the night would possibly involve fighting and/or running.

I gathered the old chains and restraints that I had lying around my house from my days as a Mistress in France (it was a long story) and shoved them in an old bag, heating up another packet of blood then tipping it into the thermos Stiles had given me what felt like a whole lifetime ago, now.

The walk to the lake house would have been long, but I ran it and got there quickly, coming to a stop outside the beautiful home. I was the first to arrive, it was just beginning to grow dark, and I leaned up against the outside, sipping at my blood and humming to myself as a distraction against the dark urges that always seemed to hang just off the coast of my sea of thoughts.

I figured I was miles too early, because it wasn't for a whole half hour before the Jeep was pulling up and Lydia, Malia and Stiles were climbing out.

"Have you filled them all in?" was the first thing I asked, and he nodded, keys clutched in a steady hand.

There was a beat of silence, and I pushed away from the wall, heading closer to Malia, who was staring up at the sky in thought.

"How you holding up, pup?" I inquired lightly, but instead of answering, she shot a disgusted grimace at my thermos, the scent of aging blood filling the space between us like a smog.

"Do you _have_ to carry that around with you?" she asked, nose crinkled at my dinner.

"Keeps me from chewing on anyone's neck," I replied tightly. "So, yeah."

Malia's lips twitched up in some kind of strange, dark humour, and I had to smirk back as I leant back against the Jeep, the cool metal comforting under my exposed skin. "I see you brought the chains," she commented.

"Trust me," I said with a small smirk. "These babies will hold. I know from experience."

Stiles looked like he was a split second away from groaning when the sound of a small engine met mine and Malia's ears. The two of us snapped to attention, turning our stares to the road where a motorcycle was approaching, sputtering with every few feet that it moved.

"I just talked to Kira, she's on her way. She said it's all going fine," the alpha was quick to tell us, taking in our grave expressions with a hint of panic. He was the only one who didn't yet know what _we_ did about Liam, and it was obvious who got the job of telling him. We all looked to the human, who sighed but accepted the task put upon him.

Stiles stepped closer, a wary look on his handsome face. "Yeah, it's not that," he began slowly. "I have to tell you something." Stiles' heart stuttered from beneath his ribs, and I took a deep sip of rapidly cooling blood to distract myself. It didn't work. "Jules and I, we poked around in Liam's file. We know why he got kicked out of his last school."

Scott was perceptive, eyes sliding amongst the group carefully. "This is going to be bad, isn't it?" he asked, a look of dread appearing on his boyish face.

"He kind of got into it with one of his teachers," Stiles approached the situation like it were a bandaid he could quickly rip off. "And, well, the kid's got some serious anger issues."

"How serious?"

"Well, that's his teacher's car after he took a crowbar to it," he revealed hesitantly, holding up his phone and showing him the photograph he'd snapped of the file before I'd had to get rid of it.

Scott stared down at the picture in shock. "Guys," he began, swallowing thickly. "What the hell are we going to do?" He looked up, brown eyes glinting with trepidation.

A car engine cut through the still night, the rumbling clear through the dark, empty forest. "We don't have time to discuss it," I said quickly. "They're here."

"Okay," Stiles said bracingly, "everybody inside."

We began to file into the lake house, but I noticed Malia glance warily up at the full moon. I placed a gentle hand on her back, subtly urging her forwards. The only human of the group dropped back so he was in line with me, a frown marring his features.

"What?" I asked as we got to the door.

"Are you sure you should be here?" he questioned cautiously. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he sighed, defeated before I'd even opened my mouth. New record. "Nothing I say will make you leave, will it?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

He sighed once more, stepping through the door, leaving me the only one still standing outside.

"Guys?" I prompted with a hint of irritation, and the group turned back to look at me confusedly. "Forgetting something?" I asked, gesturing pointedly at the threshold.

"Oh, right," Lydia muttered, stepping closer and folding her hands together. She opened her mouth, then paused, eyeing me thoughtfully. "It's okay to be doing this, right?" she asked, suddenly wary. "You're not going to do anything-"

"Would you just invite me inside?" I snapped impatiently, and though her eyes narrowed in obvious indignation, she complied.

"Come in, Juliet," she said formally, and with a roll of my eyes I stepped over the threshold, letting the door click shut behind me.

"You're a doll," I said in way of thanks, and she shot me an unimpressed look before we both moved over to the fireplace just as the shine of headlights cut through the thin curtains, telling everyone that the guest of honour had arrived. I dropped the chains and restraints that I'd brought onto the table with the rest of them, the clinging of the metal resonating around the small living room.

There was muttering from outside, and I kept a close eye on the new puppy's pulse as they entered the house. The moment he spotted us was obvious, and he glared through the darkness. Stiles lifted a hand in a wave, but I nudged him reproachfully. He dropped the hand as though chastised.

"Sorry," Kira apologised sincerely as she shut the door behind them, sealing him, and all of us, inside.

Liam sighed heavily, gritting his teeth and turning to face us again, a glare fixed into place on his face. "What the hell is this?" he demanded, heart speeding up in his chest.

"Think of it like an intervention," Stiles piped up lightly. "You have a problem, Liam."

"And we're the only ones that can help," Scott added, and I'd never seen a teenager look more dubious than Liam did in that moment. "Okay, here goes," our alpha began bracingly, hands moving as he talked like a lecturing professor. "I'm a werewolf."

Liam didn't react other than the speeding up of his heart.

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true," Scott insisted. "I'm a werewolf; the alpha, actually. Kira? She's a kitsune, which is pretty much just a fox-spirit, or a Trickster, as some call them. Uh, Malia? Were-coyote, still very new at this too. And Lydia is a banshee, she predicts death. _Oh_, and Juliet? This one's a bit hard to process, but she's a vampire." He explained all this very quickly and not very thoroughly at all. Liam's expression didn't so much as twitch as his eyes slid over each of us slowly. "I know it's scary, but this is reality, and we're all here to _help you_."

Liam was silent for one very long minute, then cleared his throat and began speaking. "Werewolf," he said, pointing at Scott carefully. "Were-coyote," he gestured at Malia, who nodded her head innocently. "Banshee," he listed with a narrowed eyed glare at Lydia, who clicked her tongue and reluctantly nodded in confirmation. His stare landed on me, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Vampire," he said slowly, and I flashed him a toothy grin that was probably in no way comforting. He looked away from me quickly. "Fox?" he attempted, glancing back at Kira.

"Kitsune," she corrected easily. "But fox works."

He looked back at the only one remaining in the group, the human who stood to the side. "And what are you?" he asked Stiles critically.

"Uh, for a little while I was possessed by an evil spirit...it's was _very _evil," Stiles responded, as though it were some kind of competition. I understood how he might feel out of place, being the only human in our little rag-tag pack. I wondered if he still wanted to be a vampire, but the thought was brushed from my mind; we had more important things to focus on.

Liam nodded like he were going along with the whole thing. "What are you now?" he asked with fake curiosity.

"...better?"

I breathed in through my mouth before deciding I needed another sip of blood, lifting my thermos and casually gulping down a mouthful of the delicious substance. Liam's eyes continued to slide between us, like he was trying to decide who exactly the most crazy of us was.

Finally he focused on the items spread across the table, taking in the heavy chains and thick restraints. "Those for me?" he asked, thrusting his chin at the offending objects, his pulse quickening. Were I not in the know, it'd probably freak me out too.

"No, they're for me," Malia spoke without hesitation. I felt the shift in energy in the room as she flashed her eyes, and Liam flinched back, gasping at the sight.

"How'd you do that?" he demanded with a hint of fear.

"You'll learn," Scott promised calmly. "But first you need to get through the full moon."

"The moon's already out."

"And you're starting to feel something, aren't you?" the alpha asked him knowingly.

"I _feel _like I'm surrounded by a bunch of psychotic nut-jobs," he snarled venomously. His heart rate was beginning to climb to the level I knew would trigger the shift. I cast a wary glance at Scott who shook his head subtly, telling me not to act. "You guys are out of your freaking minds! I don't know how you did that eye thing, and I don't care! I'm walking out that door _right now_, and if any of you try to stop me, I swear to _God _I'll-"

The new wolf collapsed, hands pressed to his ears as he groaned in agony. I felt Stiles shift so he was in front of me, one hand held out as though to protect me, and I couldn't help but soften at the action.

"What's wrong, Liam?" Scott was asking the kid calmly.

"You don't hear that?!" the pup demanded in an unnecessary yell.

Focusing my attention passed the moaning kid, I zeroed in on the sound of tires over gravel from just down the road. "We have a problem," I said with a huff of irritation.

Headlights shined into the room from outside, and Lydia frowned. "Did you tell someone about this?" she asked slowly. Could things _really_ get any more difficult for us?

"My friend Mason," Liam groaned out. "You said it was a party!" he cried, pressing his hands harder to his ears, clearly in pain.

"Who did Mason invite?"

"Everyone," Kira murmured in something like horror.

"You idiot!" I hissed, infuriated. "Do you have _any_ idea how many lives you're endangering?"

"Jules!" Scott muttered back scoldingly. Though furious, I merely clenched my free hand into a tight fist, hoping the bite of my nails into my own flesh would be enough of a distraction to keep from lashing out violently.

The scrape of claws on wood met my ears, and Lydia leapt into action. "The floors," she barked in a panic, and I remembered the house was her family's, and probably _very_ expensive. "Get him off the floors," she hissed, darting down to force him up, only for him to thrust his head up, massive fangs protruding from his mouth as his eyes glowed a fluorescent amber.

"We need to get him to the boat house!" Scott shouted to Kira warningly. "Now!"

I dove forwards, slipping around the pup's back and wrapping my much smaller arms around his middle. "Jules, no!" Stiles shouted from over next to Malia, but I paid him no mind.

It wasn't until Scott stepped in that I decided to listen. "Help Malia!" the alpha ordered me as he and Kira began to attempt to drag Liam away. I reluctantly let the struggling kid go, very carefully sidestepping his snapping jaws. "Go, Jules!" he growled, charging from the room, snarling puppy in tow.

"Stiles," Malia said from behind me, and I spun around to lay eyes on her, taking in her glowing blue eyes and gnarled canine claws.

"Okay, basement, now!" the human wrapped an arm around Malia, while I dove for the bags of chains, throwing them over my shoulder.

"What am I supposed to do with the hoards gathering outside the door?" Lydia demanded.

"Lydia, who throws the best parties in Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked impatiently.

"What?" she asked, incredulous and exasperated. "Me. Obviously."

"Okay, then throw a party!"

He spun around and began to lead Malia away, nodding for me to follow them. I kept close, letting them lead me down a set of stairs and into a dark basement. My eyes adjusted to the low light, and I watched as Malia made a beeline for the corner; clearly they already had a routine sorted out.

Stiles crouched by her, fishing my old bondage equipment out of the bag. He paused, looking down at it with an odd kind of expression before Malia gave an impatient grunt and he leapt into action, quickly securing her to the wall.

"Too tight?" he asked, the sound of chinking metal echoing around the large, concrete room.

Malia's head rose, revealing an animalistic brow and glowing blue eyes. "Tighter." Stiles was clumsy, and we weren't getting anywhere fast, so I brushed his hands out of the way, ducking down and securing the restraints in one smooth movement. I stood back up, blinking down at the were-coyote warily. "You guys can leave if you want," she said, the words pushed out around a mouth full of fangs.

"I'm not going anywhere," Stiles insisted stubbornly, grabbing an old trashcan and tipping it upside down, making himself a seat, "and to be honest I'm probably safer down here than at a party with fifty freshman and a very pissed off Lydia."

"I'm staying too," I said, leaning my weight against the wall and staring down at Malia, whose breathing began to pick up as she struggled with the pull of the full moon. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting you go through this alone," I added, not even sure who I was really talking to; her or Stiles.

The boy turned, casting me a thoughtful glance back. I met his eyes, unable to decipher the emotion within them before he exhaled slowly and turned back around to face Malia.

Music began to bleed down from upstairs, some kind of electronic hogwash that made me scowl. The were-coyote gave a sudden grunt, yanking at her restraints with dark vigour.

"Actually, maybe you should go," Stiles said abruptly, keeping his eyes on Malia as he spoke.

Blinking in surprise, I stepped closer, arms crossed over my chest as I stared down at him with narrowed eyes. "Excuse me?" I asked, my voice flat and emotionless.

"We don't need you here, Jules," he continued, sounding impatient. He waved a hand in dismissal, barely lifting his head to look at me, like he was shooing off a mere animal.

"I beg to differ," I responded, brow furrowed in a frown as I stared down at him.

Malia snarled, tugging desperately as the chains holding her. "Seriously, Juliet, just go," he snapped impatiently.

"Don't tell me what to do," I hissed back with familiar indignation.

Stiles scoffed, shooting to his feet and spinning around to glare at me. "For once would you just listen?" he asked as Malia howled, growling like a feral coyote as she yanked at the restraints. "What if she gets free and bites you?"

"What if she gets free and bites _you_?!"

"I'll survive," he countered sharply. "You won't!"

"We don't know that!"

"I'm not willing to take the chance!"

"_Guys_!"

We spun around, staring down at Malia, whose luminescent blue eyes were bright and dangerous.

"You _both_ need to leave," she growled through a mouth full of fangs.

"We're not leaving you, Malia," Stiles insisted, taking a seat on the overturned trashcan once more.

"What if I hurt you?"

"You're not going to," he sounded pretty confident about this fact.

"But I want to!" she snarled, wrenching at her chains. "I want to tear open your face! I want to feel your bones crack beneath my hands!" She jerked again, this time getting awfully close to Stiles, too much for my liking. In a smooth move I tugged Stiles out of the way, ignoring his annoyed grunt. I crouched before the were-coyote, my gaze calm and understanding.

"You wanna feel his blood, hot as it drips over your skin, right?" I asked, and Stiles gave something of a squeak from behind me. "You want to squeeze at his throat until he stops kicking. You want to sink your fangs into his neck until he stops struggling and taste his blood on your tongue."

Malia gave a furious snarl, my words egging her on.

"We're the same, you and I," I said calmly. "I understand how you're feeling, and I know from experience that it _will pass_. You _just _need to get through the night. You can _do this_, Malia."

"You don't know a _thing_," the furious beast roared, wrenching at her bindings once again.

"We're not going to leave you," Stiles dove back in, crouching beside me and staring at the were-coyote with only a small hint of fear. "And we're not going to let you hurt anyone."

She roared again, pulling at her restraints. A ripping sound echoed around the concrete room, and my gaze shot to her bindings, taking in the obvious tear in the material. "You don't have a choice," she gasped, staring at the rip with pained fury.

She jerked again, and I stepped in front of Stiles forcing him back. "Stiles, _go_!" I barked, hovering over the out-of-control coyote.

"You're _crazy_ if you think I'm leaving you here alone," he snapped in response, his front pressing up against my back. Had the circumstances been different, I may have sighed at the contact, but as it were, our lives were currently in danger, and I had no time to indulge in the sensation of his body on mine.

"I'll be fine!" I yelled back over Malia's animalistic snarls.

"But what if you're not?!"

"I will be!"

"I'm not taking the risk!"

"Stiles!" I roared, giving him a gentle but firm shove back just as the restraint on Malia's right arm snapped in two. She bolted to her feet, reaching out with a roar, going for Stiles. I stepped in the path, hissing in pain when her claws caught my arm, ripping through my thin shirt and shredding the pale skin underneath. "Fuck!" I cursed, flinching away and pressing a hand to the bleeding wound, ducking out of the way of her next attack to give myself a moment to recover.

"Jules!" Stiles' voice was panicked, his hands pressed to my side.

"Stay back!" I warned him when he got too close to Malia's snapping jaws. I glanced at him, giving him a good look at my bloody eyes and glistening fangs before I leapt at the were-coyote, dodging her attack with ease as I reappeared behind her, wrapping one arm around her throat while the other I threaded around her middle, holding her in place. "Stiles, run!"

"I won't!" he yelled back stubbornly.

"Stiles, she's strong!" I shouted over her furious snarls. A were-creature on a full moon could rival any vampire in strength, except perhaps that of an Original, but that was a whole different story. "I don't know if I can hold her!" Malia bucked like a wild animal, throwing me back against the wall thoughtlessly. My back connected with the concrete and gave an awful crack. I grunted but tightened my grip, refusing to let go. The thought of her getting to Stiles was far too terrifying. I would hold on for dear life if it meant Stiles had a chance to get away.

"Malia, I don't think you're going to hurt me!" Stiles was saying gallantly. I grunted, tightening my hold on her neck when she ducked in an attempt to bite me. One bite and it was all over – Klaus wouldn't come to save me a second time. "I think that maybe you're so afraid of hurting me because of what you did to your family!"

"Stiles!" I yelled as she threw me into the wall again. My spine gave an unpleasant crunch, and I began to feel numb, my hold relaxing on the were-coyote as I slid down the wall. I was lucky in the way that she didn't go after me, more intent on yanking at her restraints in an attempt to get free.

"I know what that's like, Malia," Stiles continued on bravely, and I pressed a hand to my shredded arm, my own cold blood trickling over my fingertips, a sign of unacceptable weakness. "I remember everything I did," he said with watery eyes. My gaze snapped up to him, but he was staring resolutely at Malia, who continued to snarl, tearing at her bindings. "And the worst part is? I remember liking it. Because I felt powerful, I felt fearless, and most of all, in control."

His words hit me like daggers to the chest. I hadn't considered that maybe he remembered everything I'd done or said to Void. I felt ashamed, like we didn't deserve to be breathing the same air. The urge to get up and run, run far away from everything and everyone in this town, was so strong that I whimpered, squeezing my stinging eyes shut and bowing my head.

"But when I came through it," Stiles continued boldly, "I learned something else; control is overrated."

I heard the chinking of metal and opened my eyes in time to see Stiles slipping the key into the padlock of the restraints.

"Stiles, no!" I shouted in terror just as Malia dove at him, snarling hungrily as she tackled him. Fighting past my temporary paralysis, I threw myself to my feet, but before I could launch myself at her there was a sudden silence.

I froze, hands outstretched to stop her, only to find she'd managed to stop herself. Malia gasped for breath, and I looked down to see her fingertips free of her animalistic claws.

"It's okay," Sties said aloud, and though I wasn't sure which of us he was talking to, it calmed me and I relaxed back against the wall.

"You controlled it," I murmured in slight bewilderment, but Malia didn't acknowledge me. She exhaled shakily, folding into Stiles like he was her everything, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck. Instantly, bitter jealousy bubbled up from my gut like a poison, leaving a sour taste on my tongue and making my eyes sting traitorously. "I'll, uh, I'll go check on the party," I murmured, moving my gaze away from the embracing pair and climbing unsteadily to my feet.

Neither of them made a move to stop me, so I fled the basement, escaping up into a sea of drunk, grinding teenagers and making a beeline for the door.

Maybe it was childish, and maybe it was irresponsible, but after the bombshell Stiles had just dropped, I had to get some space. Not to mention I was starved, the attack weakening me, making my body scream out for a feed.

Malia was fine, and I was sure Scott and Kira had Liam under control, so it was with a heavy heart that I disappeared into the night, unable to stand the thought of Stiles and Malia still embracing in the basement, Stiles' mind heavy with images of the atrocious things I'd done with Void, back when I was soulless. Back when, for one horrifying moment, I hadn't loved him.

* * *

I _knew_ it was immature to lock myself in my house and pretend the world outside didn't exist, but that wasn't enough to stop me from doing it. I slept a lot, as well as fed and listened to jazz, falling back on old habits in an attempt to find some sense of normalcy.

It wasn't until Sunday night that I finally pulled myself out of the childish funk I'd regrettably fallen into.

It was time to stop being such an antisocial idiot, so it was with great effort that I took a scolding hot shower and dressed in something other than pyjamas. I had school the next day, and things would only stay weird unless I cleared the air with Stiles – no matter how much the thought of doing so made me want to throw up.

I ran a brush through my hair and threw on an unnecessary sweater, it was a dark grey colour that made me think of hazy mornings spent in the mountains.

The sun had long since gone down, and the walk to the Stilinski residence was spent mostly staring up at the stars, hands tucked into my pockets as I strolled along the footpath, trying not to think about the impending conversation.

His window was open, and for a beat I pretended like he'd done it on purpose, as though he'd known I was coming and it was some kind of subtle invitation inside. I knew that was wishful thinking, and stopped myself before I let that fantasy grow any larger.

I settled myself down on his window seat, keeping a close eye on his back, watching him move as he taped evidence to his board, breathing deep and steady. I twisted my hands together in my lap, staring at the back of his head while he worked. I knew I should have alerted him to my presence, but I said nothing, content to selfishly watch in silence like some kind of fucked up supernatural stalker.

When he noticed me, I was expecting him to flinch or jump or scream at least a little. Instead, he did none of these things, merely casting me a glance, nodding to himself when he spotted me before turning back around to his task.

I was confused, and couldn't help but ask, "you knew I was coming?" Maybe it wasn't such a stretch to think he'd left his window open for me after all.

"Been waiting all weekend," he replied quietly, tearing off a piece of tape and sticking some kind of newspaper article to his see-through evidence board. "You left."

It was clear he meant on Friday, and I grimaced from behind his back, my stare sliding to the floor in shame. "I had to go home. I needed to clear my head," I admitted softly.

"At least it wasn't the other side of the country this time," he muttered, the words bitter, and I recoiled like he'd slapped me, though he wouldn't have known; he hadn't turned to look at me since spotting me there. "That's something, I suppose."

I grit my teeth against the emotional pain. It was like scolding hot vervain water trickling through my gut, and I exhaled shakily, hanging my head in defeat.

"I'm sorry," I apologised weakly.

"For what?"

I wasn't sure this time. "For everything."

Stiles hummed like I'd merely commented on the state of the evening.

"You remember, then," I began, my voice a mere whisper. For the first time since I arrived, Stiles gave up the pretence of being distracted, his hands freezing and his shoulders tensing. His heart stuttered from within his chest, and I sighed silently at the familiar sound. "I was hoping you wouldn't," I admitted, my voice quiet and dejected and so very filled with self-loathing.

"Yeah," he laughed without a trace humour. "Me too."

I let the crushing silence encompass us once more, considering my next words with care. Stiles' heart beat like a hummingbird's from beneath his ribs, and I took a moment to bask in the comfort the sound brought me.

"Do you hate me?"

I wasn't sure what made me ask the question, not having been something I'd consciously thought about since my rather unceremonious return. Stiles' heart stuttered at my weak inquiry. He sighed, gathering himself and turning, setting down the marker in his grip before gently padding over to me, his bare footsteps silent against the plush carpet.

My fingers were steepled beneath my chin, my eyes glued to the floor in an effort to avoid his blissfully familiar, penetrating gaze. He crouched in front of me, but I didn't look up, too afraid of what I might see.

"I don't think there's anything on Earth you could possibly do that would make me hate you," he whispered, voice overflowing with sincerity.

I exhaled shakily. "Considering I'm a serial killer, that's pretty fucked up," I murmured, attempting lightheartedness. He let out a soft huff that wasn't _quite_ a laugh, but it quickly turned into a sigh.

"You're an addict, Jules," he said gently, and though this wasn't new information, it made my eyes sting with traitorous tears. "Maybe...maybe you just need some help."

"From who?" I spat bitterly, defensiveness rearing it's head in my gut. I hadn't come looking for a fight, but I sure as hell wouldn't say no to one. Resentful acid bubbled up from my stomach. "You want me to go to an AA meeting, Stiles? Sit in a circle and tell people about how I like to chew on human necks?"

"If that's what it takes," he nodded calmly, not falling for my trap but keeping a level head. "Maybe you need to talk to other addicts, people who can understand."

"Unless you've got a flyer for a supernatural AA society hidden somewhere in this room, I think it's safe to say those people will _not _understand."

Stiles sighed, tired as he brought his hands up, running his fingers exhaustedly down his face. I mirrored the sound, the fight leaving me instantaneously. Bringing my hands up to my head, I pressed my fingertips against my temples in an attempt to alleviate the ache growing there. I was hungry, my body felt like I hadn't eaten in days, when it had barely been a few hours.

My fall off the wagon had left me just short of insatiable, like there was no amount of blood in the world that would satisfy my hunger.

"I don't mean to be difficult," I murmured to Stiles apologetically, again unable to meet his stare, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the stretch of carpet between us.

"I know," he hummed back, slowly and hesitantly reaching an arm up. I watched it move in my peripheral vision, following it as his hand hovered over my forearm for a moment before finally clasping me softly. The sleeves of my sweater were shoved up to my elbows, leaving my arms uncovered.

The feeling of his warm, smooth skin against mine was like my own personal spot of magic. My eyes slid closed, and I gave yet another unnecessary sigh, the air leaving my lungs in a huff that was more born from relief than any kind of pleasure.

The unbearable ache in my head receded to a mere dull throb.

"What can I do to help you, Juliet?" he asked, and the way his mouth caressed my name made me want to shiver. "Please, tell me," he begged, reaching up with his remaining hand and grasping at my uncovered wrist. His skin slid gently over mine until our hands were folded together, a completely innocent but still meaningful connection. "What can I do?"

"I'm no good for you, Stiles," I murmured regretfully, but my hands remained wound around his, a contradiction to my words.

His heart stuttered from within his chest and he gripped me tighter, like he was afraid I'd run if he let go. "Did you love him?" he asked, voice merely a whisper.

Finally I looked up, meeting his eyes, revealing the hollow pain behind my own. He was staring at me with terror, as though my answer might very well be the death of him. I didn't answer right away, trying to pull my thoughts together.

"I asked you once before," he murmured, tone turning thoughtful. "Back in Derek's building, when we had you stuck there with mountain ash and vervain," he added, as though I may have forgotten. I felt too sick to respond. "You said you weren't even capable of feeling love at the time. Now that you're..._you_, again; did you love him?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out who he meant. I wanted to deny everything, tell him it was the draw of the blood, the thrill of being soulless, and absolutely nothing else.

That would be a lie.

"I loved the way he made me feel," I admitted, dropping my gaze again, too ashamed to look him in the eye. "I loved the way he embraced my flaws. I loved the way he was so like me." I sucked in a sharp breath, the cool night air bleeding in through the still open window. "I loved that, when we were together, I could close my eyes and pretend it was you doing all those things to me."

I wasn't sure what he was going to take out of that, but his grip on me tightened. "You think I don't embrace your flaws?" he muttered, and I had to chortle bitterly at his question. "You craving death and destruction? That isn't a _flaw_."

"What would you call it?" I challenged.

"I'd call it a weakness." And he was right, that was exactly what it was. "Do you wish I was still him?" he asked, voice fragile and wary.

I looked back up, spotting the fear in his endless caramel eyes. I let go of his hands, and for a brief moment his expression dropped with sadness. I wiped the look away when my palms pressed against his cheeks, his face heating up at the intimate touch. "I want _you _here," I promised gently, the sincerity in my voice overflowing. "_Nothing_ and _nobody_ else compares. I will choose you over and over again, without hesitation."

He breathed in, shaky and uncertain, his heart slamming against his ribs like it was trying to escape. I focused on the sound, the wet pumping making my mouth water. Gritting my teeth against my urges, I shot him an unsteady smile and removed my hands, moving away from his blood-flushed cheeks. I sat back on the bed, shifting so the space between us grew, and I stopped breathing altogether.

Stiles noticed, as he always did, climbing to his feet and taking a few large steps away.

"You okay?" he asked quietly from over by his evidence board, but my eyes remained closed, my fists held so tight that my nails cut into the flesh of my palms. "It's gotten bad, huh?" he said, sounding helpless and making me wince further.

"Like a hot poker in my throat, and sea of razor blades in my stomach and someone punching me in the brain, all at the same time," I answered in a grunt, finally inhaling, trying to focus on Stiles' cologne rather that the irresistible scent of his blood.

"How long is it going to take to build your tolerance back up?" he asked gently, and I tried not to scoff.

"Years," I spat. "Maybe months, if I'm very diligent and _very_ lucky," I muttered, uncurling my fists and reaching up to rub away my persistent headache once more.

"So...you're dangerous at the moment?"

I smirked in dark, dark humour. "I'm always dangerous, Stiles." He moved again, his heart stuttering, and I hissed in irritation. "Distract me, would you?" I snapped, desperate for something else to focus my attention on.

"Has anyone told you about what happened at the lake house?" he asked quickly, slipping into the task like he'd been born to do it.

"No," I said, latching onto the distraction eagerly. "Fill me in."

"Okay, so you know that code Lydia wrote?" he began.

"The one she transcribed without realising it?" I asked, vaguely recalling Scott mentioning it the other day.

"We found the cipher key needed to decode it."

"How?"

"Lydia."

"A banshee thing?"

"Apparently."

"What was the code?" I asked quietly, turning my eyes to him.

"A name." He shifted under my gaze, suddenly looking downcast and sad. "It was _Allison_."

I fell silent, staring at him without really seeing him. He was serious, and the knowledge of that made my chest ache in something other than hunger.

_Myfaultmyfaultmyfault-_

"Jules?"

"Hm?" I realised my gaze and attention had drifted, and with a frown and a stern mental beating, I turned back to Stiles. "So what was it?" I questioned, and though he looked concerned, he answered anyway.

"It was a dead pool."

"...a dead pool as in a _hit list?_"

"Yeah," Stiles nodded somewhat helplessly.

"Who was on it?" I asked, brow furrowed in worry.

Now Stiles hesitated, his heart leapt, and he reached over to a pile of loose sheets of paper, plucking one out and handing it over with a steady hand. I took it silently, my eyes scanning the print out of this supposed dead pool.

"The Walcott's were the first to go," the human told me in low tones, stepping closer and leaning over me to point at the first names. "Then Demarco Montana at the party on Friday. And finally, Carrie Hudson," he finished with a sombre frown. "She was killed earlier tonight, my dad just let me know."

"Stiles," I said distractedly, my eyes caught on the lower half of the paper. "_We're_ on this list."

Stiles exhaled, "it's for all the supernaturals in town."

"So the Walcott's and Montana and this Carrie chick were all-"

"Mythical creatures, yes," he nodded, and I didn't even have it in me to snort at his phrasing.

"These numbers," I murmured, running a finger down the page.

"Symbolises monetary reward."

"So I'm going for twenty thousand?" I asked, attempting to maintain a lighter tone.

Stiles winced. "Twenty _million_," he corrected sheepishly. My eyebrows hit my hairline, and I had to swallow.

"That's some serious dough," I whistled casually, scanning the list one more time. "Whoever wrote it, they knew my real name," I added, holding it up and pointing to the plainly written _Juliet Adams _printed on the list. "Everyone in Beacon Hills knows me by the alias 'Juliet _Cooper_'."

"Well, except our pack," he told me, and I momentarily startled at the term he'd used. "It's not impossible to think that information leaked at some point," he continued casually.

I didn't reply, merely humming thoughtfully and putting the list to the side, laying it gently on the bedspread.

"This is only one third of the list," he told me quietly.

"They don't have the same key?"

Stiles shook his head. "Lydia's been at the lake house all weekend, trying to work her banshee voodoo and find the other keys," he said softly.

"Who's doing the killing?" I asked with a sudden frown. If I could get to them and kill them first, then that would both keep us alive that much longer _and _send a pretty violent message to anyone else thinking about giving it a go.

"The only hitman we know for sure at the moment is the Mute," he told me. "You know, that guy on the rooftop with an axe and no mouth?" he said, gesturing pointedly to his lips.

I was quiet a beat, considering this carefully. "Who the hell is funding this thing?" I suddenly questioned, realising the glaring hole in my information. "If I'm _twenty million_ and Scott's _twenty-five million_," I said in a hiss, "that alone is _forty-five million. _Who the hell is rich enough and psychotic enough to do something like this?"

Stiles huffed. "We don't know who it is, just that they're called _The Benefactor,_" he told me slowly. "But we _do_ know they're funding it with the money stolen from the Hale vault."

"So this is all Peter's fault."

"Well, not _really_-"

"Yeah it is," I snapped irritatedly. "If that tool hadn't been such a weak prick, this _Benefactor _blokewouldn't have stolen the money and _we _wouldn't be in danger of assassination!"

"O-kay, you've gone British again," Stiles all but sang, stepping forwards and placing a hand on each of my shoulders, and I realised that at some point I'd stood to my feet. Sulkily, I sat back down, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm myself but wincing when Stiles' scent just made my head ache. "There's more," he said, sounding reluctant to go on.

"Brilliant," I muttered, watching as he let me go and stepped away, giving me room to breathe. "Go on, then."

"Demarco was killed at the party," he began, and I nodded impatiently, well and truly keeping up. "So whoever did it was someone _at _the party; meaning..."

"It was a student?!"

"It was a student," he confirmed with a defeated sigh.

I wanted to tell him not to go to school for the foreseeable future, but not only would that be irrational and unsustainable, I knew he wouldn't listen. I'd only end up sounding like a control freak.

There was a rumble of a car engine, and I heard a door slam from the driveway. "Your dad's home," I mumbled, and he nodded, a pensive look on his face. "I doubt he'd be thrilled to find me here," I added, attempting to sound playful, but failing. "I should go," I finished rather pathetically. I climbed to my feet, running my hands down the fabric of my jeans before tangling them together in front of me awkwardly.

"You-you don't _have _to leave," Stiles said suddenly, and my eyes snapped up to meet his, confused as I halfheartedly listened to the sound of John unlocking the front door from below us.

"I really do, Stiles," I replied through clenched teeth, because no matter how much I _wanted _to stay, I couldn't risk giving in; though to what, I wasn't quite sure. "I'll see you at school in the morning," I promised him quietly, reappearing by the still-cracked window.

I climbed out with grace, keeping ahold of the edges and peering up at him through the gap. Indecision warred on his face, like he had wanted to say something but didn't know what, or how.

I decided not to give him the chance to figure it out.

"Be safe, Stiles," I told him, and he opened his mouth to respond just as John pushed open his door, but I was already gone before he could say what was on his mind.


	70. Dreaming Alone

_Don't lie, bright eyes_

_Is it me that you see when you fall asleep?_

_'Cause I know it's you I dream about every night_

_Giving me a feeling like_

_Love in the summer_

_Way I've never felt with another_

_Don't lie, bright eyes_

_Is it me that you see?_

_Tell me I'm not dreaming alone_

_The story starts lying in the dark broken and bruised_

_I count the scars left in my heart from losing you_

_And I was wrong but let's be honest you were too_

_I miss the part where I was falling hard for you_

Dreaming Alone – Against The Current

* * *

School. I loathed it.

Not only was I surrounded by idiot children and teachers who all knew far, far less than me, but I was surrounded by humans_._

Blood-filled, delicious smelling, tasty looking _humans_.

I felt like a thirsty alcoholic at a shitty bar during happy hour. It was torture. Look, but don't touch; as the righteous bastards say.

"Would you quit staring like you're imagining what herbs would go best with their cooked bodies?" Lydia hissed at me from where she sat at the end of the table in the cafeteria, a scowl on her pretty face. "We're two days into the week," she added. "Keep your fangs _in_ your mouth."

Glaring right back, I lifted my metal drink bottle, taking a deep sip of cool, sloppy, _donated_ blood. It wasn't as satisfying, but at least the freshmen I'd been eyeing had stopped whimpering in terror when they passed me.

"Is Jules staring at humans like they're on the menu again?" Malia asked absently as she slid into place beside the banshee, a trigonometry book placed before her, a couple of highlighters clutched tightly in her hand.

"You could at least _act _human," Lydia murmured, clearly in a bad mood. I knew it was because she still hadn't been able to find the remaining cipher keys even after two whole weekends of trying, so I decided not to hold it against her. I knew it was tearing her up inside, that she felt like people's lives rested on her perfectly proportioned shoulders.

"Didn't you have class with Stiles just now?" I asked Malia, spinning around to do another sweep of the room, searching for the spastic, human pack member.

"Mhm," the were-coyote hummed in affirmation, uncapping one of her highlighters and running it over the page.

"Well where is he?"

"Will you loosen up?" she huffed, glancing up at me in clear irritation. "He's not going to get offed between classes. Besides, he's _human_. He's probably safe."

"_Probably_," I echoed sourly and even Lydia sighed at my snappy attitude.

"If you watch him any more closely, it'll start to look obsessive," Malia told me apathetically, and I shot her a sharp look that was completely and totally ignored. "You're already stuck to him like glue," she muttered, more so to herself, once more highlighting an important chunk of text in her book.

"Excuse me for being concerned about his safety," I grumbled, trying not to pout.

"You're not even together anymore," she retorted moodily, clearly getting sick of my attitude. I grit my teeth against the unwelcome reminder, exhaling sharply and chewing on my tongue in an effort to keep from snapping back.

"What Malia's _trying _to say," Lydia murmured softly and placatingly. "Is that _maybe_ you should just give him some space. You don't want to be too clingy," she added like I might relate.

I snapped my jaw at her threateningly, and she flinched briefly, whirling around to shoot me a severely unimpressed glower.

We fell back into silence, Malia furiously studying and Lydia absentmindedly stabbing at her mystery meat with a plastic fork. "There haven't been any other killings since the Carrie girl," I commented abruptly, breaking the quiet that had settled over us like a blanket. "And that was nearly two weeks ago."

"Maybe they've left town," Lydia suggested, looking up from her skewered lunch and pursing her lips as she scanned the cafeteria, looking for something only a banshee had any hope of finding. "Or maybe they've given up."

"They'd only be replaced by another and then another," I muttered, sipping at my meal again, licking away the blood lingering on my lips. "There's always going to be racist, money hungry murderers out there eagerly waiting to slit our throats and stick our heads on pikes as a warning to the innocent supernatural masses..."

My bitter speech was met with deafening silence, and I looked up, blinking at Malia and Lydia, both of whom stared back at me with varying degrees of bewilderment.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Does your natural vampiric pessimism have an off switch?" Lydia asked, leaning forwards so the 'V' word wouldn't be overheard.

I grinned back wolfishly. "It's called murderous violence, sweetheart," I told her cheekily, and she huffed out a surprised laugh, leaning back and tossing one of her soggy fries passed her red painted lips.

I breathed in, catching Stiles' chocolate-and-mint scent on the air. I spun around, watching as he and Scott made a beeline for our table. Kira trailed behind them, hands folded in front of her, heart beating anxiously from beneath her chest. I cocked my head, meeting her eyes with my most least threatening smile, but she still flinched away from my gaze.

The past two weeks had been interesting, to say the least. Coming home and immersing myself back into the pack hadn't been an easy feat. The only person who seemed unaffected by my presence was Malia, who was awfully like me in the sense that she just didn't let things _get_ to her. She remained apathetic in the face of grave emotion, something I highly identified with.

If only I could do that _without _turning into a bloodthirsty animal, that would be _oh so_ sweet.

Lydia was wary of me, constantly watching me like a hawk, as though at any moment I might break out into a murderous rage and begin draining every human in sight. Scott didn't seem too concerned about my control, but was rather wary of my interactions with his best friend, eyes fixed onto me every time I stood in Stiles' vicinity. Kira was downright terrified. To be fair, she had only really seen me as '_soulless Juliet_', which I knew was enough to frighten adult men, let alone a shy sixteen year old girl.

Stiles was relatively normal, though I had to admit our dynamic was peculiarly different. It was like he was afraid of me and in awe of me at the same time. His heart beat hurriedly every time we got close, and he was always watching me like he were afraid it would be the last time he ever saw me.

His fears weren't completely unfounded, so I tried not to be too upset by this development.

Stiles slid into the place beside me, his hip brushing mine and making his heart leap as he settled onto the bench. Scott settled on his other side, and I quickly leaned backwards to see around the human, meeting Scott's warm brown eyes.

"How'd it go?" I asked him in an undertone, and the wolf lifted his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug.

"Derek thinks his anger will make him strong," he murmured, casting a glance to the right where Liam sat at a table with some other freshman. The new pup stared gloomily down at his lunch while the children around him laughed boisterously. The contrast was stark.

"And dangerous," I added thoughtfully, watching the way the kid's jaw clenched angrily as his mood shifted.

"Definitely," Scott nodded.

"Will Derek help?"

The alpha shook his head slowly. "My beta, my responsibility."

"You know I'm here, right?" I asked, feeling awkward even as I said it, keeping my tone to a bare whisper so the majority of the rest of the pack couldn't hear. "If you need...you know..." I cleared my throat, not doing well with this kind of thing, staring resolutely at a piece of gum squished into the concrete.

Scott gave an amused laugh. "I know," he agreed, reaching around Stiles to place a large, warm hand on my shoulder, squeezing in a move I would almost call affectionate.

"What's going on?" Stiles asked loudly, and with a final grin Scott let go, turning to his tray of food and beginning to devour the cheap, undercooked burger with gusto.

"Scott was giving me hair tips," I muttered with a sly smirk, shaking off the sweet moment and picking up one of Stiles' fries, popping it into my mouth and trying not to grimace at the texture.

"Good luck," the human snorted, and I smiled back, taking another deep sip of O+ and halfheartedly focusing on what Lydia was explaining to Kira, just trying to enjoy once more being part of a pack, something few vampires can truthfully say they've experienced.

She was saying something about mathematics, but I was more interested in the scent coming from across the room.

"Dammit!" a voice cried out, but it was barely heard over the dull buzz already filling the cafeteria. I tensed, the grip on my drink bottle becoming so tight that I could feel my fingers making dents in the otherwise smooth metal.

"Jules?" Stiles was the first one to notice, as he always was. His eyes followed my line of sight, taking in the kid who'd fallen flat on his ass across the room, a sizeable gash spread from his elbow to his forearm.

All I could see was the red dripping from his arm, collecting in a puddle on the concrete. I stopped breathing, knowing one whiff of the good stuff would be enough to shatter was little control remained intact within me.

"Scott," Stiles barked hurriedly, and suddenly there were arms around my middle, holding me in place. Warm hands pressed against my cheeks, and a face swam into my vision, blocking my view of the blood. Caramel eyes stared back at me, concern stretched across his freckled face. "Shh," he hushed me softly, voice like a lullaby. "Jules, shh..."

I realised I'd begun to growl, the force behind the action making my chest vibrate, the sound reaching the ears of those at tables nearby, beginning to frighten the humans.

"Out," I hissed at Scott with what little air I had left. "Now."

He seemed to get the message, and next thing I knew I was being manhandled across the room. I went limp, still holding my drink bottle in a too-tight grip. People stared after us, but I figured they'd seen enough weird shit throughout town to know not to go asking too many questions.

Once we were out of the cafeteria and away from the source of the smell, I wriggled from Scott's tight grip, landing catlike on the ground, hands braced on my legs as I took in a deep breath of clean, uncontaminated air. I could still smell the blood, but it seemed far away, less tempting than it had a mere moment ago.

A hand pressed against my back, and I looked up in surprise to note it was Malia rather that Stiles. Brow furrowing, I scanned the corridor for him, only to find him standing behind Scott, the alpha's chest puffed out in a subtle warning.

It stung more than it probably should have. Although it did make sense; having the human close to me wouldn't exactly do wonders for my remaining semblance of self-control. "You okay, Jules?" Lydia asked, and I realised with a blink that they'd all followed us out of the cafeteria, surprised to find Kira even holding my bag in one dainty hand.

"I'm fine," I sighed, standing up straight and trying not to feel embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise!" Stiles practically barked from where he was stood, unapologetically pushing his way passed Scott and approaching me with careful, cautious steps. I met his eyes, confusion radiating from my expression. Why was he so irritatingly perfect? How could he act like a boy hadn't just nearly been murdered by a vampire right in front of his eyes. "I don't think you should go to class," he said gently, like I was an easily spooked animal.

"What did you have next?" Lydia asked, her voice soft and placating, as though she were talking to a child. I felt briefly miffed, but immediately scolded myself for it. They were doing their best, I could put up with a hint of patronisation for the sake of a human life.

"English," I responded, pressing my arms around my middle in a way they was subtly comforting.

"Skip it," she said, and I blinked in surprise, trying to process the strange order from the usually-studious girl.

"Pardon?" I asked, not seeing the logic.

"Malia and I have a free period," she told me quickly, hefting her designer bag higher up on her shoulder. "Come with us, I'm going to work on getting the other codes."

"How?"

"Automatic writing," she replied flatly, casting Stiles a look that made it obvious it was his idea. He huffed, and she rolled her eyes. "If I can draw a tree, I should be able to write a few names," she added somewhat sourly, and I felt like she were merely repeating his words.

From above us, the bell rang. Scott turned to Kira, who nodded. He looked back at me. "You sure you're okay?" he confirmed warily.

"All good, teen wolf," I assured him softly. "Get to class."

He pursed his lips but nodded, turning with his little kitsune to leave. "I'll meet you guys there!" Stiles called after them, and they tossed him nods of acknowledgement before continuing on their way. "Come on," he said, holding onto the straps of his backpack and staring off in the other direction.

"Stiles, you're gonna be late for class," I murmured in confusion, watching as Lydia began to drag Malia ahead of us as though she'd received some kind of order to do so, leaving Stiles and I to trail behind them by ourselves, dodging hurrying freshman and undisciplined seniors as they shoved their way passed us obliviously.

"So what?" he shrugged. "Better that than you have a slip in control," he added, casting his eyes to his shoes, and my stomach clenched unhappily.

"Coach won't be happy," I muttered, not really concerned but at a loss for what else to say.

"He'll live," he said, perhaps a poor choice of words, as we winced simultaneously. "Uh, I'm probably just going to spend class pouring over those crime scene pictures anyway," he was clearly trying to steer the conversation back into safer waters, and I appreciated the effort.

"You stare at them any longer, you're gonna burn holes in the paper," I stated lightly, and he took a beat to roll his eyes at my terrible attempt at a joke.

"I just feel like we're _missing something_," he exhaled loudly, coming to a stop outside the art classroom, which was blessedly free of human life. Malia and Lydia slipped inside, leaving the door ajar for me to head in when I was ready.

"You'll figure it out, Stiles," I assured him gently. "You always do."

The halls were empty now, everybody in class, doors closed tightly behind them. We were quiet, Stiles staring at a distant wall of lockers while I stared at him, silently trying to decode the subtle twitches in his expression.

His heart beat wildly in his chest, and my eyes trailed the movement of his muscles under his shirt as he tensed. "I'll see you after?" I finally asked, not wanting him to be any later to class than necessary.

"Right," he nodded, still looking distracted. Eventually he turned to me, a hesitant look on his face as he suddenly and unexpectedly swooped in. I eyed his movement, staying perfectly still as his hot lips pressed gently to my cold cheek. He didn't linger tenderly like I dearly wished he would, instead pulling back with a sharp inhale, tossing me a less-than-confident smile and darting back down the hall and away from me like his life depended on it.

I stared after him pensively until he disappeared around the corner. My cheek was still tingling from where he'd kissed me, and I just barely resisted the urge to press a hand against the spot like some kind of pathetic, lovestruck idiot.

"Juliet!" Malia's voice was annoyed as she yelled out to me from inside the art room, clearly forgetting about the whole super-enhanced-hearing thing.

I rolled my eyes, turning and pushing my way into the room. It was relatively dark, but I assumed it was that way on purpose. Lydia was halfway through assembling an easel, while Malia was rustling through her backpack for something or other.

I reappeared at Lydia's side, but she didn't flinch at my sudden materialisation, merely smiling tightly as a thanks for the help. In one flick of my wrist the easel was upright and steady, and she huffed lightly, though not unkindly.

"How does this work?" Malia asked from behind us, and I walked around to the table off to the side, collapsing in an available chair and swiping up my previous discarded drink bottle, taking a deep sip of the cool blood inside.

"Well, with any luck, I'll just...write something," Lydia attempted to explain, but Malia seemed hardly enlightened.

"Hm," she hummed skeptically, nodding nonetheless.

Content not to be in class, and away from fragile humans, I breathed deeply. The only scents in the room were that of a were-coyote and a banshee, one forest-y and animalistic, the other too sweet with a hint of overpowering death. I would feed from them in a pinch, but they weren't inherently appetising.

"Should I not say anything?" Malia was questioning, and Lydia's lips were pulled into a tight line as she held a pencil just inches above the blank slate of paper. "Will that help?"

"This isn't going to work," I all but sang from where I was reclined, my feet tossed up onto the chair opposite me in a comfortable, casual move.

Lydia's lips only thinned out some more. "Why not?" Malia asked with a blink.

"Well, last time it was absentminded," I told her factually. "This time she'd forcing it – these things rarely work that way."

"Will you be quiet?" the banshee hissed, teeth grit in frustration. Apparently neither of us was helping.

The room once more fell quiet, this time the silence was almost tangible, like I could reach out and grasp it in both hands. It was actually rather uncomfortable.

"Please stop hovering," Lydia abruptly begged of Malia, who was perched over her shoulder, staring at the still-blank canvas with wide, expectant eyes.

"I'm not hovering, I'm...waiting," the were-coyote replied softly, crease appearing between her brows as she stayed where she was. "Draw something; write something. We need to know who else is on that list."

"You mean _you_ need to know if _you're_ on the list," Lydia snapped back, quickly losing patience.

Malia sighed, spinning around to meet my eyes with a hint of exasperation that she, for some reason, believed I shared. Unsure how to proceed, I pursed my lips and nodded, and she turned back to the banshee with a huff. "If someone's coming to take my head off, then yeah, I'd like to know."

We fell back into silence, all except for Malia's breathing as she continued to stare at the paper and Lydia like she was waiting for them to reveal everything.

"Can you please just _sit down_?" the banshee finally hissed, voice aggravated and stern. "You're making me nervous," she finished as Malia held her hands up in surrender and stepped away. The were-coyote ripped the chair out from under my feet rather uncaringly, collapsing down in it and reluctantly burying her head in her borrowed library book, flipping the pages with an air of apathy that I appreciated.

Bored, I tipped my head back to stare at the ceiling, noting the buzzing sound the air conditioner was making and tossing it an irritated glare.

"Lydia!" Malia exclaimed abruptly, and the other girl flinched.

"What?" she asked with very little patience. "Oh my God, _what_?" she hissed when the were-coyote continued to say nothing.

"Maybe we need help," she told her bluntly, slamming the book down for the older girl to see. "From another banshee."

"...Meredith," Lydia murmured knowingly, staring down at the drawing of the Wailing Woman with consternation.

"Who the fuck is Meredith?" I questioned, and both turned to look at me in surprise.

"How _don't_ you know who Meredith is?" Malia questioned without tact.

"She was...indisposed...during the whole end of the year," Lydia murmured carefully. "Remember?"

"Like I could forget," Malia snorted, gesturing vaguely to her eyes in a way that was certainly meant to mean my vamp-face, and I shot her sarcastic smile in bitter irritation.

"Meredith's a banshee that Stiles met in Eichen House," Lydia explained, curbing any oncoming squabble that may have appeared.

"Sounds promising," I scoffed in sour amusement.

Lydia shot me an irritated expression. "She helped find me when _you_ and the Nogitsune kidnapped me," she shot back, and instantly I was shut down, the lazy grin dropping from my face and my teeth gritting together in an attempt to keep my own emotions at bay. A glint of regret appeared her expression, and she swallowed loudly, though made no move to take her words back.

"Alright, then," I nodded, trying to retain as much dignity as I possibly could. "We'll need to-"

My phone beeped, interrupting what I'd been about to say. I glanced down at it, somewhat pleased by the intrusion. The text was from Stiles.

_Need you. Locker room. _

My dead heart seemed to flutter, and I breathed deeply and slowly, trying not to let my glee show on my face. "Duty calls," I muttered, climbing to my feet and shouldering my old, tattered bag. "Keep working on the writing," I prompted Lydia without looking at her. "There's a small chance it might _actually_ work." Though I doubted it.

"You going to be okay, alone?" Malia asked through a deep frown, glancing from me to the doorway warily.

"I'll be fine," I told her flippantly, shooting her a small, convincing smile before stalking towards the door. I'd just yanked it open when Lydia's sweet, soft voice stopped me from leaving.

"Jules," she said, and I reluctantly turned to look at her, one eyebrow cocked expectantly. "Sorry," she apologised sincerely, I could see the remorse for her offhanded comment swimming in her eyes.

I breathed deeply, telling myself to not be such a stubborn bitch. "It's okay," I replied quietly, forcing something of a smile. "I'd hold it over my head, too."

With that I turned and disappeared, heading directly for the locker room, telling myself not to be so eager. Who knew what Stiles needed me for? It probably wasn't for a shag against Coach's desk.

A girl could dream.

Nobody was there when I arrived. Though confused, I leant casually against the wall, impatiently waiting for the cavalry to appear. It was approximately seven minutes and one subtly smoked cigarette later, but soon enough Scott, Kira and Stiles were hurrying towards me, concerned looks glinting in their eyes.

"Where's the fire?" I questioned as they approached, and Stiles made it to me first, pressing a gentle hand to the small of my back and urging me deeper into the room.

"We know the murder weapon," the human told me in an undertone. "Would you mind?" he asked, gesturing to the door handle of Coach's office. Shrugging, I lifting a leg to kick it in. Stiles stop me with a strangled yelp. "I meant the less _damaging _method," he sounded exasperated.

Rolling my eyes, I turned to Kira. "You got a bobby pin hiding somewhere on your person?" I asked her politely, and though she looked like a frightened gerbil at the attention, she still fished out a pin from her hair, handing it over to me, being very careful to drop it into my hand without touching my skin – which I had to admit, was a tad insulting.

I knelt down on the hard floor, slipping the small pin into the lock and beginning to wriggle it around, trying to find the perfect grip.

"Where did you even learn to do this?" Scott muttered to me under his breath, and I smirked up at him from where I worked.

"Amsterdam," I replied cheekily and completely honestly, taking pleasure in the wolf's surprised expression just as the door clicked open. I slid to my feet smoothly, holding the door open and waving the others through. "You were saying?" I asked Stiles, watching from off to the side as they immediately began to grab any lacrosse stick they could get their hands on, tearing off the little plastic ends and peering into the centre.

"We know the murder weapon," Stiles continued distractedly.

"I thought they were stabbed, not bludgeoned to death," I said, and he shot me a exasperated look, which I enjoyed immensely.

"The killer used a dagger _inside _the end of a lacrosse stick," he told me quickly, tearing off another end and glancing inside before throwing it to the floor with a frustrated huff.

"So the killer is on the team?" I deduced.

"You're a regular Sherlock Holmes, you are," he murmured back dryly.

"Oh, I understood that reference!" I cheered abruptly, a smile lighting up my face before I could stop it. Stiles paused his searching, turning to look at me with unadulterated fondness, so unbridled that the air _whooshed_ from my lungs.

"This is pointless!" Scott had apparently been paying no attention, and we both broke our stare, turning to look at him as he tossed the last of the sticks to the desk in defeat. "Most of the team plays with their own gear."

"Maybe, instead of trying to find a lacrosse stick with a hidden dagger in it, we should be trying to get the game cancelled?" Kira suggested carefully, dark eyes flitting between us all quickly.

"The game is the best way to catch him redhanded," Scott argued gently.

"But what if he'd redhanded because his hands are covered in the blood of the person he just stabbed to death?" Stiles countered quickly. "Which, by the way, could be _either_ of you guys," he said, gesturing between them.

"...or Liam," the alpha murmured solemnly. "We don't have the whole list, and he could be on it."

"We don't know _anything _about that list!" Stiles hissed back. "How it's made? How it's updated? I mean, who's been out taking a supernatural census, anyway?"

"How do they even know about me?" Kira posed an interesting question.

"They know about everyone," Scott murmured to himself, a look of abject horror on his puppy-dog features.

"And they know about me," I muttered through a frown.

Stiles huffed a sarcastic laugh. "Love, you haven't exactly been _subtle_." I blinked in surprise at both the pet name and the words. If Stiles noticed the slip, he didn't show it. "I think Scott's right," he announced assuredly. "I think we should stop the game."

Scott seemed to shake his head. "...I'm not afraid," he told us bravely.

"Neither am I," Kira proclaimed valiantly.

"Well I'm _terrified_!" Stiles interjected sharply, throwing his arms up in the air in pure exasperation. "And I'm not even _on _the list! Guys, these are professional killers. It's their _profession_! One of them's got a thermo-cut wire that cuts _heads _off! Who knows what else they have?"

"Look, the issue still stands," I said, growing impatient from the banter. "To play, or not to play?"

"_That_ is the question," Stiles joked rather lamely, and I took the time to shoot him an unimpressed stare that made him clear his throat awkwardly.

"How are we supposed to get the game cancelled?" Kira posed the question thoughtfully.

"Coach's dosed with vervain," I murmured rather bitterly. "No way I could compel him." We were quiet for a beat. "I could break someone's arm?" I suggested hopefully.

"No, Juliet," Scott deadpanned with even a moment of hesitation.

"Besides, that wouldn't stop the game," Stiles spoke up. "He'd just bench the player."

"I could break _Coach's _arm?"

"You're not breaking _anyone's _arm," Scott looked dangerously close to rolling his eyes. I sighed, biting my lip in an effort not to pout like a child. "We play," the alpha declared suddenly, chin tilted up bravely. "It'll be dangerous, but it may be our only opportunity to catch the killer. Besides, we'll have Jules watch from the sidelines."

"Because she has a _great _track record when it comes to getting the upper hand in a fight," Stiles practically sneered, and I whirled around to glare at him.

"Those were all alphas, vampires and full-moon-enhanced werewolves," I argued through gritted teeth. "I can take a single teenage human playing dress up."

"Are you _sure_?" he said condescendingly.

"Don't think I won't hit you, Stilinski," I growled dangerously, but instead of looking irked, he actually looked kind of...turned on. His cheeks flushed and his heart raced, his eyes going a shade darker. Surprised, my irritation dropped and I cocked my head curiously, trying to decode the odd reaction, remembering that spark in his eye.

"Guys," Scott spoke up with awkwardness in his voice, and I realised the human and I had been staring at each other consumingly. I broke the contact, spinning back around to frown at the werewolf.

"If you play, I'll be there," I assured him, shaking off the encounter with only slight difficulty.

"Come on," Stiles' voice was strained, like he was holding his breath. "I can't get skipping _more _class."

He turned abruptly, striding from the room like a solider at a ceremony, spine straight and shoulders held back. I watched him warily, concerned I'd done something wrong, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it could have been.

Walking to the Biology classroom was slow, listening as Scott murmured something to Stiles about lacrosse, only for us all to come to a sudden stop, the pathway flooded with curious students all crowded together, blocking the way rather rudely. "What's the holdup?" I snapped at the cluster of students, who all flinched at the venom in my voice. Admittedly, I was left unapologetically grumpy from the encounter with Stiles.

"Jules," Scott muttered, jerking his chin in the direction of the buses, where a group of boys stood in the open, one in particular was familiar.

Watching Liam try to bury the hatchet with his old schoolmates was kind of like watching a professional figure skater trip and fall on their face during a routine. Amusing, but it still made you cringe.

An awfully familiar scent carried on the wind, and I tensed before realising it wasn't quite appetising. "Scott," I hissed to the alpha warningly. "Blood."

Stiles and Scott leapt forwards, diving in between Liam and the human boy, holding the new beta back from doing something he'd regret. Stiles floundered, opening his stupid mouth and rambling on at the other team, only serving to make them confused and suspicious. I rolled my eyes and moved forwards, fully prepared to step in should things go south, but a beat later Scott and Stiles were dragging a struggling Liam towards me, and I spun around, immediately clearing a path for the boys.

"Move!" I hissed, swatting at an in-the-way freshman, who paled in terror and leapt away from my violent gesture. The boys didn't even have the time to chastise me for my less than gentle tactics, rushing to get Liam out of sight.

"Where?" Scott asked us in a rush, shoving the hyperventilating werewolf into the school and shooting an innocent smile at a group of suspicious looking seniors.

"Uh – the locker room!" Stiles blurted as Liam tugged his way free, growling warningly at the human, who raised his hands in uneasy surrender. Swooping in, I locked my fingers around the beta's neck, gripping tight enough to regain control, using the leverage to angle him in our desired direction. "That's one way to do it," Stiles muttered to himself from behind me, and I moved away from Liam's snapping jaws long enough to shoot him a wolfish grin. "Nothing to see here!" he hurried to tell a group of passing girls, watching us storm by in horrified concern. "Just a bit of a violent outburst," he laughed weakly, but none of them looked convinced.

Scott held open the door to the locker room, and I manhandled the struggling werewolf into the room. "Showers," the alpha instructed, grasping Liam's arms to assist me. With a grunt I slammed the kid up against the tiles. Scott's hand shot out, grasping the knobs for the water, instantaneously drenching us with water.

Liam writhed in our hold, and I blinked the water from my eyes as I slammed him back up against the wet tiles, expertly dodging his snapping jaws.

"Are you calm yet?" Stiles asked from over my shoulder, but Liam only roared in response.

I shoved him back under the ice cold spray, holding him there and glaring as his eyes glowed amber. "Don't make me knock you unconscious again, pup," I snarled, slamming him against the wall in the most _least_ sexy way ever, and with a shuddering gasp his eyes returned to their natural state.

"Okay," he heaved, flinching away from us, though not as he had before. "Okay!" he insisted, and I exchanged a contemplative look with Scott before the alpha nodded, flicking off the water and letting go of his young beta. Reluctantly, I released him also, stepping back and looking down at myself, my sleeves and front dripping with water.

Scowling, I shot Liam an unimpressed look that he didn't acknowledge. Gasping for breath, the kid slid to the floor, hanging his head as he collected himself.

"That car you smashed?" Scott began carefully, tone confused but patient. "I thought you said that it was your teachers."

"He was also my coach," the beta responded grimly. "He benched me for the entire season."

"That's...rough," I murmured awkwardly, feeling like the comment warranted a response, but not knowing what to say. Liam shot me a somewhat irritated frown that I happily ignored.

"What did you do?" the alpha demanded, beginning to grow anxious.

Liam cringed, shrugging his shoulders. "I got a couple red cards," he admitted.

"What's a red card mean?" I whispered to Stiles who shot me the blankest look I'd ever seen in my life. Deciding to ask later, I pursed my lips and turned back to the conversation at hand. Wasn't my fucking fault I didn't know anything about sports.

"Just a couple?" Stiles asked the kid sarcastically.

Scott crouched down by the beta's side, heart steady in his chest as he murmured to him. "You've gotta be honest with us," he said gently, like Liam was fragile. The kid looked up, a hesitance in his eyes that clashed with Scott's knowing stare. "What else happened?" the alpha pressed firmly.

"Nothing!" Liam insisted, too quickly to be anything but a lie.

"Tell the truth, you little-" I began in an irritated snarl, but a gentle hand on my arm held me back. I took a deep, calming breath, immersing myself in Stiles' comforting, familiar scent. Liam stared up at me, eyes wide and vulnerable, and I felt something in me twitch, like a long since buried maternal instinct that had been hidden for so long I'd forgotten it was even there. I sighed, reaching up to rub at my brow. "We can't help you if you don't tell the truth, Liam," I said with as much patience as I was physically able to handle.

His heart stuttered, and he swallowed loudly. "I got kicked out of school," he admitted after a long, hesitant pause. "They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation," he revealed with a scowl, unable to meet our eyes.

"What'd they call it?" Scott asked gently.

"Intermittent Explosive Disorder," he told us reluctantly.

"IED?" Stiles exclaimed, and I glanced over my shoulders to see his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You're literally an IED? That's great!" Turning to Scott with a sarcastic grin, he added, "you gave superpowers to a walking time bomb."

"They must have given you something for it," I murmured knowingly, and both boys turned to look at me perplexedly. "Risperdal?" I guessed, and the boys' looks of bemusement only deepened. "I did more at college than play beer pong and eat people, you know," I murmured to Stiles defensively, and despite everything, the kid actually snorted with dark amusement.

"Yeah, it was Risperdal," Liam was the least surprised by my knowledge, and he confirmed my suspicions. "It's an anti-psychotic," he explained to Scott lowly, and the alpha looked away from me, focusing his attention back on Liam.

"This just gets better," Stiles muttered sardonically, and this time I was the one to smirk in dark amusement.

"But I don't take it."

"Obviously."

"I can't play lacrosse on it; it makes me too tired," the beta explained, sounding stricken.

"Okay," Scott murmured, and I could practically see his mind whirring over as he took everything in. "I think you shouldn't play the game tonight. Tell coach your leg's still hurting."

"No!" Liam argued without hesitation, unsteadily climbing to his feet. On instinct my hand shot out to help him, but he shrugged me off, and I pulled back with a grimace. "I can do this!" he insisted hurriedly. "Especially if you're there," he added hopefully, and from behind me, Stiles sighed and dropped his face into his palms.

"Liam, it's not just about the game," Scott replied patiently. "We think, whoever killed Demarco, might be on our team," he told him gently, and but Liam gave no sign that this concerned him.

"Who's Demarco?" he asked a beat later, and I huffed, hating it when people were uninformed, wasting valuable time playing catch-up.

"The one who brought the beer to the party?" Stiles supplied impatiently. "Remember? The guy who was beheaded?"

"What we do know, is whoever ordered that keg, _they _killed Demarco," I told him, keeping myself from growling in annoyance at the rehash of information.

This time Liam did react, he dropped eye contact, his heart beginning to race in his chest. I raised an eyebrow, shifting subtly closer to the kid. "Liam?" Scott asked, picking up on it too. "You know something?"

"I don't know who ordered the keg," the beta replied hollowly. "But I know who paid for it."

"Who?" Stiles interjected eagerly, shoving himself away from the wall and stepping closer to the recovering kid.

"Garrett," Liam revealed with a blink.

"Garrett what?" Stiles barked impatiently.

"I don't know his last name," he insisted quickly. "All I know is that he's a freshman, like me."

"Can you point him out if you see him?" Scott asked hopefully.

Liam didn't hesitate this time. "Yeah," he assured us confidently. "Yeah, I can."

* * *

"Liam really shouldn't be playing," Scott was muttering to us heavily, staring across the field at the beta, who was bouncing on his toes and rolling his shoulders in preparation for the game.

"What are you gonna do about it, then, teen wolf?" I asked impatiently, reclined on the bench beside Kira. The fox was angled ever-so-slightly away from me, not able to meet my eyes, probably for fear I'd turn her to stone, or something equally ridiculous.

"What _can _I do?" he responded sullenly, keen eyes sweeping the field, watching every player meandering across the grass, on the look out for anything even slightly suspicious.

"I don't know, talk to Coach," I replied unhelpfully, but Scott seemed to take the idea seriously, nodding to himself and climbing to his feet. "I was kidding!" I murmured after him, turning to look at Stiles, who was propped up with his lacrosse stick, watching with raised brows. "This isn't gonna work," I muttered to him, and he grunted in complete agreement.

"Juliet?" Kira's voice was meek, but when I turned to look, there was a brave spark in her eyes, one that made me intrigued. "You...you'll be keeping an eye on everything, right?" she murmured, hopeful but wary as she spoke.

I cocked my head, curiosity spiked. "What are you really trying to ask me, vixen?" I asked instead of answering, my eyes narrowed in her direction.

She winced, probably upset she was so transparent. "You'll make sure nobody hurts Scott, won't you?" she finally questioned me honestly.

I couldn't help the smile that quirked at my lips. "I think, out of all of us, Scott's the one who can actually take care of himself," I told her confidently, casting a glance over to the alpha, who was stood in front of Coach, pleading with him to make Liam sit out of the game.

"I know," the kitsune murmured, eyes aimed in the same direction. "I just..." she didn't seem to know how to word what she was trying to say.

"Worry," I finished with a knowing nod, casting a glance back at Stiles who was talking on the phone to his father in hushed undertones, a frown pulling at his brows. "I get it," I revealed in a move of surprising honesty, and Kira looked surprised by the show of sentimentality. Stiles hung up his phone, huffing as he slid it into his bag and zipped it up, tossing it carelessly onto the damp grass.

"Hey Liam! Think fast!"

All of our heads swung around in time to see the new beta pluck the ball from the air with his supernatural reflexes. The whistle blew, and all of the players began to flow onto the field. I shot Kira a rare smile, the action somewhat of an olive branch, and she attempted one back before sliding her helmet over her head and climbing warily to her feet.

Stiles stepped passed me, moving to follow her, but before I realised what I was doing my hand shot out, grasping at his wrist and yanking him to a stop. Pausing, the kid looked down at me, pulling the helmet from his head and peering at me through confused eyes.

"Please be careful," I begged him quietly, meeting his caramel gaze firmly, hoping he understood how much my sanity rested on this request.

"I'm not on the dead pool," he said as though it was meant to comfort me. His eyes bore into mine, and his heart rate picked up, whether from anticipation or nerves, I couldn't tell. "I'll be fine."

"Still," I murmured, squeezing his wrist tighter, idly thinking that I wished he wasn't covered by his uniform, so I could feel comforted by his warm skin pressed bare against mine. "Please."

"I'll be _fine,_" he repeated emphatically, bending slightly, bringing our faces torturously closer together. "I have you watching me," he added with a quirk of his lips, and I exhaled sharply, holding him tighter. "I couldn't be safer."

"Stilinski!" Coach shouted in a snap, and we both looked up, realising the entire field was in limbo, waiting for Stiles to join the game. Coach looked less than pleased, eyebrows raised at us in incredulity, like he couldn't believe we could be so rude as to hold up the game.

"Go," I prompted Stiles, letting him go with a reluctant wince.

He stared at me for one long second before leaping into action, slipping his helmet back on and jogging out onto the field. I watched him go with a frown, suddenly wishing I had joined lacrosse, if only so I could stay by his side.

The game began quickly, but my attention was on anything _but_ where the ball was. I kept my eyes on Stiles, even though I knew they really should have been on Liam. It wasn't until two of the other team's members violently and illegally shoved Liam to the ground that I realised I had to be keeping a closer eye on him. He tore off his helmet and gloves, diving at the opposing members with an animalistic snarl that thankfully went unheard over the cheers of the crowd.

I stood to my feet, shifting my weight as I prepared to intervene. Scott, however, seemed to sense my indecision, and without even looking up at me held out a hand in my direction that I knew instinctively was for my benefit. I reluctantly sat back down on the bench, grumbling under my breath unhappily as I watched the others get a handle on Liam.

The kid calmed with a command from his alpha, and I relaxed again, glancing idly at the scoreboard. I knew very little about sports, but I understood the basics of the game – you got the ball into the net, you won a point. So far the away team was on 2, while we sat at an inconvenient 0.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reluctantly looked away from the game to fish it out, blinking down at the text I'd received.

_Meredith at Station. Meet you there?_

It was from Lydia, and I really shouldn't have been surprised that the escaped mental patient had somehow known we were looking for her. Bloody Banshees.

_At game, won't leave them,_ I responded concisely, but Lydia seemed to understand without any further explanation.

_Keep you updated_, she promised, and I felt a warm sort of glow. It was almost like we were real friends, and I realised with a start that that was something I now wanted. I was over my petty dislike of the banshee. Who cared that Stiles once had a thing for her? Who cared that she acted ditzy and superficial in the beginning? I knew that, in reality, she was anything but, and that was what mattered.

With a decisive nod, I pocketed my phone and turned my attention back to the game and Stiles, watching as he scooped up the ball, darting around the other players and tossing it perfectly to Kira, who seemed more than a little bewildered that she'd caught it.

I watched with surprisingly bated breath as she twirled around the other players with a grace that could only come from the supernatural.

"Pass the ball!" Coach was yelling at her furiously, but by the way her heart was hammering in her chest, I doubted she could hear him. With an almost expert throw the ball was sent flying into the net, the guy meant to be guarding it missing my a long shot.

I grinned widely, oddly proud as I clapped my hands in support, never one to cheer in an undignified manner like the others. Kira was more than ecstatic, leaping for joy as she celebrated the point she'd earned.

"Yukimura!" Coach snapped sharply, and the kitsune spun around from where she was beaming happily at Scott. "Get over here!" he ordered, and she began to jog in his direction. She tore off her helmet, a wide grin on her pretty face. "Take a seat, you're benched for the rest of the game," Coach barked without preamble, and the excited smile promptly melted from her face.

"What? Why?" she asked, bewildered. Irritation clawed at my insides, and felt my own face pull into a displeased scowl.

"You didn't pass," the Coach deadpanned.

"I had an open shot!" she argued.

"The play was for you to pass. This is a scrimmage, it's about _teamwork,_ Yukimura," he said with the utmost condescension. "So, you're benched." He glanced over his shoulder, irritated eyes narrowed at me. "Cooper, get off the bench; players only," he snapped.

It was all I could do not to make my eyes flood with blood. "Don't tell me what to do," I seethed back furiously, and his eyebrows raised like he was contemplating arguing with me, but there was a shout from the other team's Coach and with an exasperated huff he turned his attention away.

With a defeated sigh, Kira hung her head and marched back to the bench I was perched on. She collapsed onto the seat, dropping her helmet to the ground.

"Can you believe he benched me?" she murmured in disbelief, and considering I was the only person within earshot, I figured she was talking to me.

"Coach can be a bit of a prick," I replied flatly, shooting him another glare that unfortunately went unnoticed. "But hey, that was one hell of a shot," I added, attempting a friendly sort of tone.

To my surprise, Kira actually smiled, looking up at me for the first time without that hint of fear in her dark eyes. "Thanks, Jules," she said, seeming happy that I was offering somewhat of a friendship. I idly thought that maybe coming back here wasn't such a huge mistake after all, maybe this really _was _where I belonged.

My existence shouldn't have hinged on whether things with Stiles were good, I realised. I could be fulfilled by _friendships_ just as much as I could a relationship. I smiled at her, deciding once again to work on not being such a bitch. Allison was gone, this I knew, but that didn't mean my opportunity for friends had died with her. Kira, Malia and Lydia were here, and they were willing to accept me for who, and _what_, I was; murderous tenancies and all.

There was a roar and a sickening crack from the field, and I was pulled from my thought harshly, turning my attention to the figure lying helpless on the grass. I sniffed cautiously, but, luckily for them, there was no hint of blood in the cool, evening air. My eyes darted across the players until they landed on the large _24_ pasted across Stiles' chest, more than a little bit relieved he was okay.

People began to run into the field, concerned by the two players laid unmoving on the ground. Their hearts continued to beat in their chests, so I remained unconcerned, my eyes sweeping over the scene, taking in everything I could see, looking for any hint of something suspicious.

"Are they okay?" Kira questioned, standing from the bench in an effort to see what was happening.

"Everyone's alive," I replied quietly, teeth grit together as I tried to see what I was missing. Why wasn't anyone dead? "For now," I added pensively, but Kira didn't seem relieved by my addition.

Coach began to call for everyone to clear the field as the injured player was escorted off the grass and onto the waiting table by the medic. Scott was murmuring to Liam in stern undertones, and whatever he was saying, the beta seemed to be agreeing, nodding his head acceptingly. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but before I could look at it, Stiles appeared at my side, heart still beating wildly from beneath his ribs.

"You alright?" I asked him gently, inquiring more about his mental state than his physical one.

"I will be once this damn night is over," he exhaled sharply, yanking off his helmet and running a hand through his sweaty hair, making it even more unruly than before.

I hummed in agreement, finally fishing out my phone and opening it, peering down at the words on the screen.

_Call me_, Lydia's text read, the order clear as day.

Immediately I found her number, pressing send and holding the phone up to my ear, waiting impatiently as it rang. She answered on the second ring.

"What is it?" I asked before she could get a word out, and Stiles perked up in worry, leaning closer in an attempt to hear her response. I jerked away, his scent invading my head like smoke, the urge to feed growing stronger. He looked hurt my my slight rejection, but I didn't have the time to worry about his feelings right now.

"_We broke the next list,_" Lydia revealed, her tone hushed, like she didn't want somebody overhearing. I assumed she was still at the police station, probably swarmed by human officers.

"You what?" I blinked in surprise. "With what code?"

"_Meredith helped,_" she told me in clipped tones. "_The key was_ 'Aiden'."

I sucked in a deep breath, processing this carefully. If there was any doubt that the key word 'Allison' had been a coincidence, it was long, long gone.

"Is Liam on the list?" I questioned hurriedly, glancing over at the beta who was stood with Coach, conversing in low tones. Stiles perked up at my response, eyes shooting wide open in shock.

"_I'm sending you through an image now_," Lydia said instead of an answer.

"Everything okay?" I asked, glancing at Stiles who looked more than a little eager for me to get off the phone and explain things properly.

"_We're_ _fine,_" the Banshee assured me gently. There was a sound on the other end of the line, and I frowned as Lydia mumbled something away from the receiver. "_I've got to go. Tell the others._"

"Will do," I swore, hanging up the phone and turning to an anxious Stiles.

"Lydia uncovered more of the list?" he asked before I could so much as open my mouth. I decided to say nothing – I didn't exactly have any other news to tell him. Wordlessly I held up my phone so we could both see it, a crystal clear image of yet another list displayed plainly on the small screen.

Stiles ran a finger down the names, looking for anyone we knew.

"Liam isn't on here," he murmured thoughtfully, only to come to a stop at an unfamiliar name. "Oh no," he muttered, and I narrowed my eyes at the name.

"Who's Brett Talbot?" I questioned with a crinkle of my nose.

"The guy who just disappeared into the school," Stiles revealed heavily, a weary, concerned look on his face that made me uneasy. "The one who was just attacked."

* * *

**A/N: Wow - chapter 70! It's Christmas Eve, 11:15pm, here in Australia, and I figured I'd give you this chapter as a gift! Lots of tension between Stiles and Jules, eventually things are probably going to boil over...**

**Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I hope you're all having a wonderful break, and I hope all you guys on other continents are appreciating the cold, because it's about a billion degrees here! Anyway, I love each and every one of you to bits, and if you felt like giving back this holiday season, the review box is right below ;)**

**Happy Holidays! xx**


	71. Haze

_Cause nothing satiates me_

_And I don't think that I hate me_

_But bad or good_

_Seems nothing could_

_Take away this tasteless haze_

_And nothing overtakes me_

_And I think I'm going crazy_

_But bad or good_

_Seems nothing could_

_Take away this tasteless haze of mine_

Haze – Tessa Violet

* * *

I liked the school at nighttime, it was calm and quiet, and not filled with walking blood bags that tempted my very strength of will with every Goddamn bloody paper cut. Of course, every time I'd been at the school at night, somebody had almost always died, not to mention I'd been more than a little bit injured.

Fucking high school, man.

"This way!" Scott called, taking a right and bolting down the hallway. I kept up with him easily, sniffing the air myself. The scent of animalistic blood filled my nose, and I cringed, knowing that we were likely far too late.

Scott was the first to dive into the room, and I followed, instantly throwing myself onto the ground beside the teenager's unconscious form. There was a painful looking scorch mark around his neck, and I took in the sound of his heartbeat, gently prodding the kid until his eyes flew open.

Another heartbeat made itself known, and I spun around quickly, snapping out, "Scott!"

But I needn't have worried. The alpha was more than capable of taking on this little wannabe assassin, taking hold of the glowing thermo-cut wire looped around his neck and ripping it lazily from his throat, slamming the girl up against the wall, knocking her unconscious. I was proud, but I didn't have time to praise the teen wolf for his actions, turning to the injured werewolf on the floor and prodding him again.

Footsteps hit the linoleum floor, and I knew from the familiar heartbeat that it was Stiles. I wanted to scold him for being so reckless and following us, but I knew that would only lead to more fighting.

He tripped into the room, but I kept my attention on the wolf on the ground. "Brett, can you hear me?" I questioned, pulling open his eyes and quickly checking his pupils.

"I think you better call your dad," Scott murmured to the human, who was breathing heavily from his run to get here.

"And an ambulance?" Stiles asked, already fishing out his phone.

"The human's already dead," I told him absentmindedly, listening as the werewolf's heart began to race as he went into shock. The wound to his neck was already healing, so I knew it couldn't be that. Bewildered, I sniffed the air, picking up the faint trace of wolfsbane mingled with a speck of unappealing puppy blood. "We need to get this kid to Deaton," I said with very little patience. "He's the only one who can help him now."

"Someone has to stay for when my dad gets here," Stiles said hurriedly, I could practically see the cogs turning in his mind.

"Well, figure it out," I ordered, climbing to my feet, then bending down to slip a hand under the unconscious kid's legs and back, hefting him up until he lay over my shoulder. He was quite a bit taller than me, so proportionally it was a bit awkward, but his weight was next to nothing for my supernatural strength. "Quickly," I added firmly. "Then whichever it is, meet me at the Jeep."

I didn't give the boys a chance to speak, disappearing from view. The werewolf over my shoulder groaned in pain as he was jolted, but my main priority was getting him to the only person who had a shot of saving his life.

Panic swelled in me as the kid convulsed, and I propped him up against the side of Stiles' Jeep, gently slapping his cheeks. "_Please_ do me a favour and _don't_ die in my arms," I muttered to him pleadingly, checking his pupils again and listening closely to his heart rate as it to spiked once more.

I tapped my foot anxiously against the ground as I impatiently waited for one of the boys to appear from the school. Once a full minute passed I assumed it was Stiles tagging along – Scott would have gotten there _much_ faster.

The human was already fumbling with his keys when he burst from the building, half-sprinting over to me as I heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Sometime today would be great," I snapped at Stiles sarcastically, irritated by the slow rate he was moving. He didn't even spare the time to shoot me a glare, instead unlocking his car and needlessly helping me deposit the trembling werewolf into the backseat. In the next heartbeat I was sitting in the passenger seat, waiting impatiently for him to join me in the car.

The Jeep started with a familiar warm rumble once he finally settled in, and he tore out of the parking lot with a screech. I leaned over the seat and pressed a hand to the wolf's skin, noting that he was getting hotter by the minute.

"Scott rang Deaton and told him we were coming," Stiles told me distractedly, barely indicating for a second before pulling into the next lane. "Was gonna ring Derek too, tell him to meet us there."

"Well if we don't get there _soon_, this kid doesn't stand a chance, Stiles," I told him frustratedly.

"I'm already doing fifteen over the speed limit," he barked back, sounding as anxious as I felt. I grit my teeth and kept my attention on the deteriorating health of the boy in the backseat. There was a long, tense silence, filled only by the werewolf's staccato breathing and Stiles' racing heart. "You don't even know the guy," the human suddenly said with a frown. "It's not like you to care so much."

The words were true, but stung nonetheless. I hoped he didn't notice me flinch. I didn't answer for a long minute, trying to pull my storm of raging thoughts into something comprehensible. "I don't know," I murmured, trying to buy myself time, and reluctant to answer.

"Don't give me that," Stiles snapped, glancing away from the road to shoot me a displeased glare that lacked any real heat. "Be honest, for once," he added darkly, sounding somewhat bitter, and I bit my tongue against the onslaught of emotions.

With a heavy sigh, I opened my mouth and told the truth. "I've been responsible for a lot of people dying lately," I murmured, staring resolutely out the window at the black sky, wishing we were somewhere without light pollution so I could actually see the stars. "And it would be nice if, for once, I was responsible for _saving_ someone's life, rather than taking it."

It sounded kind of stupid now that it was said out loud, but Stiles didn't comment on it, electing to remain silent for the rest of the drive to the clinic. I could feel him thinking hard about my words, and I longed to be privy to those thoughts, if only for a moment.

The Jeep parked with a squeal of it's tires, and in the next instant Derek was yanking open the back door, pulling the now convulsing werewolf out and holding him in a tight grip, grunting ever so slightly at the exertion, which, if I weren't so distracted, might have made me suspicious.

"In here!" the veterinarian was saying before we'd even stepped into the clinic, waving us through to the back room hurriedly. Derek dropped the kid on the examination table just as his convulsions got more violent, yellow discharge flying from his mouth with every cough. I assumed Scott had explained everything, because Deaton didn't look even slightly confused by what was happening before him. "Shirt off," he demanded, and without hesitation I grabbed onto the material at the chest of his shirt and yanked, ripping the cloth off him without the blink of an eye.

"What the _hell _is happening to this kid?!" Stiles demanded in a panic, struggling to keep him in the centre of the table. I bent over his legs, holding them down with only slight difficulty. He was strong, that much was certain.

"He's been poisoned by a rare wolfsbane," Deaton responded quickly from where he stood by the supply cabinet, digging in it for one thing or another. He returned with a glistening scalpel, holding it just above the kid's skin. "I need to make an incision and you need to hold him as still as possible."

"Hey, Derek, how about a bit of werewolf strength?" Stiles asked the other werewolf sourly, glaring at him across the table as together they struggled to keep the victim still.

"I'm not the only one here with werewolf strength," Derek snapped back bitterly. I held tighter to his legs, managing to keep them from kicking me in the face.

"If you can't hold him still, the incision might _kill_ him," Deaton growled, and the pair of bickering boys fell silent.

The werewolf began to convulse more intensely, and I caught the scent of unappetising blood as he bit through his own tongue, the red mixing in with the yellow foam bursting from his mouth.

"I think he's slipping! I don't think I can hold him!" Stiles yelled suddenly, struggling to keep ahold of the seizing wolf.

In a move of unexplainable clairvoyance, I practically saw what was about to happen by the tensing of the victim's muscles. "Stiles, watch out!" I warned in a panic, just in time for the wolf to explode, shoving us away from him with one powerful swipe of his arms and legs. Deaton was pushed back into me, his scalpel jabbing through my shoulder, lodged deep inside my muscle. "Fucking fuck," I cursed, leaping away and bringing a hand up to the tool jutting out of my shoulder like some kind of low budget Halloween costume.

I spun around in time to see Peter appear, slamming his fist into the panicking kid's mouth and sending him careening to the floor in a splash of red and yellow fluids.

We were all silent, breathing heavily as we watched the ex-alpha's eye fade from glowing sapphire to regular old sky blue. "I guess I still have a little werewolf strength, myself," he said, a hint of a smirk playing at his mouth.

"Yeah, maybe more than a little," Derek replied tightly, eyeing his uncle like he was a puzzle he just couldn't work out.

"You okay, Jules?" Stiles spoke before either Hale could say anything, and I blinked at him uncomprehendingly, wondering why he would think I wouldn't. "You kind of have..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to the shoulder area. I looked down at myself in surprise, realising that, in the excitement of it all, I'd completely forgotten about the scalpel jutting out from my shoulder, a small river of blood trickling down my side.

"Oh," I murmured, blinking as I wrapped my fingers around the instrument, getting a good grip before ripping it from my shoulder. It didn't hurt that badly, just enough to make me hiss, and with a grimace I dropped the offending, blood-covered object to the ground, kicking it out of the way pettily. Nothing but the sound of breathing filled the room, but with a jolt I realised something was very wrong. There were five of us in the room, and only four hearts were beating. "Shit," I growled, reappearing knelt over the poisoned werewolf, laying a hand over his skin.

"Oh crap," Stiles swore, joining me on the floor. "I don't think he's breathing!"

Deaton positioned himself to the side of me, and I shuffled out of the way to let him do his work, pressing myself unthinkingly against Stiles' side. "Pass me a fresh scalpel," he demanded of one of the two standing wolves, and a moment later Derek was handing him a knife untainted by my vampire blood. Without hesitation he dragged the end along the teenager's sternum, and like magic the kid sucked in a sharp, heaving breath.

A small cloud of smoke escaped from his chest, and I watched it dissipate into the air like a vapour.

"Is he okay?" Stiles asked Deaton after a long, tense silence.

"I think he'll be fine, but he'll probably be out for awhile," the doctor responded calmly.

A hoarse whisper filled the room, and I tilted my head to get a better listen. "Guys, can you hear that? I think he's saying something," Stiles said quietly, leaning closer to the unconscious boy in an effort to hear.

"The sun...the moon...the truth..." he was mumbling under his breath.

Deaton heard, sitting back and blinking as he realised what he was hearing. I looked over, meeting his frowning gaze. "What is it?" Stiles prompted, not understanding. I turned to look at him, realising with a start that we were still pressed together, the warmth from his body bleeding through my clothes and staining my skin.

"Three things can not long be hidden," Deaton recited pensively. "The sun, the moon, and the truth." I recognised it, and I had a feeling that the wolf behind me did too, if the jolt of his heart was any indication. "It's Buddhist," the doctor told us, turning around to narrow his eyes at Derek, who stared at the unconscious boy like he was seeing a ghost.

"Satomi," Peter murmured the name like it was a curse, and I turned around to frown at him, not knowing what this meant.

"You care to share?" I asked dryly when no explanation followed.

"Let's get this boy off the floor first, shall we?" Deaton spoke politely, but I got the feeling it wasn't quite a request. Although my shoulder now ached like a bitch, I scooped the wolf up in dainty arms, depositing him onto the table as gently as I was able. "I need to check his vitals," he said, suddenly gesturing to the door, a clear hint for us all to leave.

Peter turned and left the room, and Derek cast a final look to the injured kid before following after his uncle. Stiles made to leave after them, but paused when he realised I wasn't following behind.

"Jules?" he asked carefully, hesitating in the doorway.

"He'll be okay, Juliet," Deaton assured me quietly when he noticed my eyes trained on the werewolf's chest as it just barely rose with ease pained breath. I hated that I was being so transparent, but knew taking out my frustration on the others wouldn't help things, so I shot the veterinarian a tight smile before following after a concerned looking Stiles.

Peter and Derek were already standing in the waiting room, remaining so they could elaborate on this 'Satomi' person.

"You wanna explain?" Stiles asked the blue-eyed beta, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Satomi is a werewolf; a beta last I heard, but it's entirely possible she's since become an alpha and started her own pack," Peter told us, his arms crossed over his chest.

"And you think she's that kid's alpha?" I pressed, cocking an eyebrow at the pair as I jerked my chin back towards the exam room, where I could hear the emissary setting up an IV.

"The sun, the moon, and the truth," Peter repeated flatly, a look of vague irritation splashed across his features. "It was somewhat of her mantra." There was a pause. "She's one of the oldest werewolves alive," he added, the look in his eyes begrudgingly respectful.

"How old?" I questioned, chin tilted upwards in perturbation.

"Does it matter?" Peter drawled lazily.

"I like to know what I'm up against."

"Satomi isn't a threat," Derek told me in a growl. "She's an ally."

"If you say so," I mumbled petulantly, unconvinced.

"We need to find her," the blue-eyed wolf continued, a look of decisive resolution on his face.

"I think we can all agree that task has been delegated to you," I said, lifting a hand to my throbbing shoulder and trying not to wince. I needed to feed, it was the only way to make sure I was totally healed. Derek looked less than pleased by my comment, but the rest of the group seemed to be in agreement.

"Well then," Peter drawled, idly inspecting his hands, "you'd better get started."

There weren't any goodbyes exchanged. Peter merely turned and left the room, Derek trailing after him with something of a vague nod of acknowledgement before the duo disappeared from the clinic.

"Come on," I said to Stiles, heading for the door.

He sighed, tired as he followed me, stepping out into the frigid air of the night.

I climbed into Stiles' Jeep, the air between us still and quiet. It was chilly for my human companion, and as soon as the engine started he cranked up the heat, holding his hands out over the vent in an effort to warm himself up.

"We've gotta let her warm up," Stiles said suddenly, and for a beat I was confused, then I realised he was talking about his vehicle. "I don't wanna push her too hard in these temperatures."

I was bemused that he was talking about the car like it were alive, but I figured it was somewhat of a human trait. "Okay," I agreed with a nod, turning around to open my door, slipping outside, the cold night air fresh on my face.

The door clicked shut behind me, and Stiles exclaimed in bewilderment from inside the car, winding down the window just in time to see me slipping a cigarette between my lips and cupping a hand around the end so I could light it.

"Jules," Stiles suddenly sounded awfully whiny. I blinked at him in the glow of Deaton's outside light, the hand clutching my lighter frozen halfway to my mouth. "I thought we agreed you'd quit," he grumbled, frowning at me with frustrating disappointment.

"That was before-" I abruptly cut myself off, not sure how that sentence was going to end, but also not willing to find out.

Before he got possessed by a dark spirit? Before I became a soulless killing machine? Before we spent a month on opposite sides of the country? Before I lost my resistance to blood?

Despite not finishing my statement, Stiles still winced like he'd been struck. "It helps with the cravings," I murmured to him honestly, ashamed as I directed my gaze to the gravel beneath my feet.

"Are they still bad?" he asked, voice weak.

"The worst," I confirmed, the understatement of the year.

I lit the cigarette, though hardly enjoying it as much as I might have before. I pocketed my lighter, inhaling the lungful of smoke before blowing it from my lips in a harsh sigh.

Stiles said nothing, turning on the radio and staring down at it with a level of concentration unnecessary for someone merely adjusting the stations. I remained quiet, reluctant to be the one to break the silence that had fallen over us.

"There was another familiar name on that list, you know," Stiles spoke first, thankfully, and I looked away from the sky to frown at him.

"Which one is that?" I asked, leaning one arm through the open window and peering through at him curiously.

"Jordan Parrish," he said like I was supposed to actually recognise the name. I blinked back expressionlessly. "He's my dad's new deputy," he elaborated with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "You've met him a few times."

"Doesn't ring a bell," I hummed, pulling my death stick away from my lips and taking care to blow the smoke in the opposite direction to Stiles. "What is he, then?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd know," he admitted, scratching at the back of his neck.

I snickered, pressing my lips together as I laughed. "No such luck, handsome," I replied; how was I supposed to know what supernatural category this guy fell into if I didn't even know who he was?

Stiles' heart stuttered, then he asked, "would you know if you saw him?"

I shrugged, flicking the ash from the tip of my cigarette. "Depends, I'll need to talk to him, probably – get a feel for his energy."

Stiles blinked, and I cocked my head, curious about his confusion. "_Feel _his _energy_?" he asked incredulously, like I'd just told him I could breathe underwater. "What does _that _mean?"

My lips curled up at the corners, and I leaned further inside the window to talk. "Every living thing gives off an energy...a power, if you will. Vampires are better attuned to sensing it than, say, ordinary humans, are."

"...are you telling me that vampires are Force-sensitive?" he finally asked, and this time I was the one left confused.

"I don't know what that means," I deadpanned, frustrated by the reference.

"Never mind." Stiles shook his head violently, like his brain was an etch-a-sketch he was trying to clear. "Well, I think we need to talk to him anyway," he finally said. "The guy deserves to know there's a price on his head."

I took another drag, nodding my head. "Fair enough," I agreed easily. "We'll go tomorrow." I paused, an idea hitting me. "And we'll take Lydia with us."

"What?" Stiles looked surprised. "Why?"

"Well, we need the last key, right?" I asked, and he nodded warily. "This Parrish bloke is a cop, and maybe once we tell him he's on a dead pool, he'll take us seriously and help us get to Meredith, whom at this point, honestly seems like the best bet we have at getting our hands on the remainder of the list."

"That's..." Stiles trailed off thoughtfully, "actually, surprisingly smart." Offended, I shot him a hard, red-tinged look that made the human gulp noisily. "That sounded bad, I just meant that you're not usually the one to come up with the plan," he said warily, trying not to wince as he spoke, probably for fear that I'd hit him.

I eyed him dangerously for another long moment, if only to make him sweat, then my expression cleared into a teasing smirk. "Pouting because I thought of it before you?" I asked, pushing out my bottom lip mockingly.

"Ha ha," he grunted sarcastically, thoroughly unamused. "Get in the Jeep," he barked, shooting me a glare that lacked any real bite as he started the engine up once more, putting the car into gear. I dropped the butt of my cigarette, crushing it with the heel of my shoe before climbing into the vehicle. It was significantly warmer inside, and Stiles quickly wound up my window, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for the main road.

Stiles seemed content to let us fade into silence, no sound but the soft music from the radio filling the car. The quiet wasn't heavy, as it had been before. Instead it felt easy and comfortable, like nothing had changed and we were still just friends, sharing a ride home after a long, busy day.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? I wasn't even sure if we _were_ still friends?

Overcome with shame, I stopped myself from saying anything, remaining silent as he came to a stop outside of my tall, looming house. It didn't seem like a home, not anymore, not after everything that had happened there; after all the blood that had been spilled there. By me.

"What're you thinking about?"

I was brought from my rather dark inner-monologue by Stiles' warm, comforting voice. Startled, I snapped my head away from the view of my dark house, turning to look across the car at him. "Nothing," I lied absently, frowning at myself.

"I don't believe you," he said calmly, and I narrowed my eyes in his direction. "You're wearing your 'thinking' frown," he explained simply, only serving to make my frown deepen.

At my silence, Stiles only sighed. Forcing my expression into something lighter, I cracked open the door and stepped out into the still-frigid night air. "I'll see you tomorrow," I promised him gently, leaning in through the open door and attempting something of a smile.

"I'll pick you up around nine?" he inquired, and I gave a nod of agreement before letting the door click shut and turning to head to my front porch. I made my way there at a human pace, much more interested in the racing of Stiles' heart from inside his Jeep, which sat idle on the curb until long after I'd gone inside.

* * *

I got no sleep that night, but that meant I got to watch the sunrise. I dusted my bookshelf and rearranged my large collection into order of preference for no other reason than chronic, unavoidable boredom.

I took a shower than lasted probably an hour too long, then changed into a sweet little off-cream sweater and a high-waisted black skirt. The soft sounds of an expertly played saxophone travelled through the house as I rolled on my stockings, and I was so immersed in humming along to the melody that I barely registered the sound of Stiles' Jeep pulling into my driveway. It wasn't until I heard heartbeats and the slam of car doors that I realised anyone was there at all.

I was pulling the front door open before either Stiles or Lydia could knock, smiling at them welcomingly in an effort to make myself seem less menacing and, with any luck, approachable.

"Good morning," I greeted them gently, pulling the door open wide, my stocking-clad feet slippery against my polished wood floor. Both looked surprised and somewhat wary at my seemingly cheerful attitude. Lydia held her bag tightly to her side as she entered, as though I were going to snatch it from her in a fit of thievery.

"Lydia's was on the way, so I picked her up first," he told me, sounding strangely apologetic, like I might be offended he got her before me.

"I don't mind," I assured him quickly, nodding him through and shutting the door after him.

"You look...nice," Lydia commented, sounding genuinely befuddled. I suppose it was the first time she'd seen me in a sweater with a fawn knitted onto the front.

"Not everything I own is bloodstained," I joked wryly, and although the statement may have made a lesser girl flinch, I was pleasantly surprised that Lydia seemed to see the humour in it, a small but sincere smile edging onto her lips. Her hair was down and perfectly done in subtle curls, making me realise mine was still damp, hanging limply over my shoulders. I felt suddenly self-conscious. "You guys hungry?" I asked, my tone deceivingly bright.

"I already ate," Lydia shook her head, casting a wary glance towards the kitchen, probably wondering if it was where I stored the blood. It was, but I figured mentioning that would only make her queasy.

"Well, I'm starved!" Stiles proclaimed, slamming his hands against his stomach and shooting me a wide, honest grin.

"The kitchen's completely stocked," I assured him, waving him out of the foyer and into the tiled kitchen. "Eat to your heart's content," I encouraged him, taking a step towards the stairs. "I'm just going to finish getting ready," I added, only to pause when Lydia spoke up.

"I'll come with you," she said with a gentle smile, taking the initiative and striding on up the stairs. "You can do something more fun with your hair than leaving it dangling limply in your face, like usual," she added with somewhat of a goading smirk, and my eyebrows raised in surprise at the remark.

Stiles' heart leapt from where he stood in the doorway to the kitchen. "I'll come too!" he exclaimed, a worried look clouding his features.

"You want to come help braid hair and apply lipliner?" Lydia challenged, seeing something in the odd situation that I was clearly missing.

Stiles hesitated.

"That's what I thought," she smiled again, nodding her head at me then tossing her chin in the air and striding up the staircase like the she were Queen. Stiles sighed in defeat, but I heard him cross into the kitchen and begin rooting through my cupboards, no doubt in search of breakfast cereal.

Wary but not unwilling, I led Lydia through to my room. She eyed it carefully, like it was a puzzle she was trying to solve.

"So, my bathroom's through here," I said, stepping over to the door along the far wall.

"Go blow dry your hair," she told me offhandedly, moving over to my chest of drawers, focused on the nicknacks sitting atop it. I hesitated, unsure if letting her snoop through my room was wise, but it wasn't like I was hiding anything, or that there was anything out of the ordinary to find, so with a hum of acknowledgement, I turned and headed into my ensuite.

The loud sound of my hair dryer filled the room, but I made quick work of the job, keeping half of my attention trained on the banshee perusing my bedroom. Three minutes later I was shutting the device off, laying it on my shelf and running my hands through my head of thick, pitch black hair.

"This frame's nice," Lydia said from the other room, raising her voice like she'd forgotten I'd be able to hear her whisper. I wandered back into my room, eyeing the delicate antique frame she held in her hands.

"It was a gift from a friend back in 1898," I responded gently, and if she was surprised by the casual admission of my age, she didn't show it.

"Stiles has this picture up in his room too," she noted, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, glancing down at the photograph within. It was of Stiles and I, he'd taken it on his phone then done some kind of magic with his computer to print it out.

It was of the two of us only a month or so after we'd met. He'd surprised me with a 'selfie'. I was making a crinkled face at the camera, my eyes narrowed in bewilderment, while Stiles had a wide, goofy grin splashed across his face, beaming toothily at the camera, free arm thrown casually around my shoulders.

I hadn't remembered he had the same photo in his room too, and I felt warm inside as I recalled this fact. "It's one of my favourites," I murmured honestly, idly listening to the sound of the television from downstairs and the soft crunching as Stiles ate his cereal. "I wish I'd smiled, though," I added with a note of regret.

Lydia looked up at me with her large eyes, an odd sort of happiness in her expression that I hadn't expected. "I think it's perfect," she assured me kindly. "It's much more..._you_."

I smiled back, a little unsure how to respond. "Thanks?" I tried awkwardly, and she smiled back softly.

"So, what are we going to do with that head of hair?" she asked, gently placing the photo frame back where she'd found it and turning to me with her hands on her hips.

"Shouldn't you be more focused on other things?" I asked warily.

"Like what?" she seemed confused.

"Like cracking the last third of the list?" I posed, eyebrows raised in bemusement.

She hummed, staring at me as she mulled over my comment. "Just because we're in danger, it doesn't mean we can give upon our lives," she said thoughtfully, a tone to her voice that was wise beyond her years. "If we do, they might as well have already killed us."

I pressed my lips together, considering her carefully. I really was wrong about her, in more ways than one. "Come help me do something with it," I offered, wandering over to my elaborate vanity and taking a seat.

"You can't do it yourself?" she asked playfully, gently placing her bag on my bed before crossing the room to take the brush from my hand.

"Growing up, I had handmaidens," I admitted a moment later, and Lydia's smooth strokes stuttered with her surprise at my comment. "I can do it myself now, but I've never been _quite _as good as I'd like to be," I added, and she went back to gently running the brush through my raven locks.

We were quiet for a minute, and I got the sense that she picked up on the fact that I had more to say.

"I owe you an apology," I murmured, fiddling with my array of lipsticks as an excuse not to look her in the eye.

"What for?" she asked innocently, and I bit my lip at the thought of having to explain my impromptu apology.

"I was kind of a bitch to you over this last year," I murmured, uncomfortably tapping a stick of lipstick against the oak wood of the vanity. The motion of the brush through my hair was relaxing, and I tried not to make my sigh too obvious. "I made all of these judgements against you, and none of them were fair, nor founded."

"What kind of judgements?" she inquired, utterly unruffled, and considering I'd been expecting her to snub me, I was quite content with her calm response. She gently put down my old brush and began to pull my hair up into some kind of half-braid half-bun that looked better than anything I could do myself.

"That you were shallow and vapid," I answered honestly. "That you were an uncaring, plastic bitch."

"You can stop now," she told me exasperatedly, and I spotted her rolling her eyes in the mirror, and was further surprised by the light smirk clinging to her mouth.

"You're not mad at me?" I questioned, unable to understand.

"That was how I acted," she admitted, pulling a hair tie from the messy stack and on my counter and adjusting my hair like an expert. "It's how I _still _act, if I'm honest," she added in a mumble, holding out her hand. Somehow I knew she was looking for bobby pins, and I fished out a small tin from the depths of my drawer, handing it over silently. "You were also jealous that Stiles liked me," she said casually, and I spluttered in indignation at the words, making her give out a small ring of genuine laughter.

"I mean, not at _first_," I grumbled unhappily, trying not to pout as I caught her eye in the mirror, making her chuckle again.

"You know he loves you _way _more than he ever liked me, right?" she asked softly after a long minute of comfortable silence. "He liked the _idea _of me, but once he really _met_ me, it was clear we were destined to just be good friends."

"And that's how you feel too?" I asked carefully.

"Yes," she swore, and her heart gave no stutter to prove it a lie. "He _loves_ you," she assured me, letting go of my hair and leaning over me to dig in my tray of lipsticks, sorting through them absentmindedly.

"Not anymore," I muttered bitterly, taking the mauve lipstick from her and beginning to spread it on my lips.

"You're wrong," she told me simply, but I wasn't willing to listen to a spiel that would only give me false hope.

"How do I look?" I asked in a desperate attempt to force a subject change, climbing to my feet and spinning around, holding my hands out like I was on display.

"Decidedly _not_ evil," she nodded primly, and I dipped into a joking curtsey that made her roll her eyes at my theatrics.

"How long does it take to apply some lipstick?!" Stiles shouted impatiently from below us, and I couldn't help but snicker in amusement. Lydia grinned, her smile big, bright and beautiful, and I felt a sense of kinship that I hadn't ever really felt before with the banshee.

"Come on," I prompted her, swiping my old phone from it's place on my dresser and leading her from the room. "Let's go before he starts eating the donuts and gives himself a sugar rush," I joked, grinning at her as we descended the stairs.

"Finally!" Stiles exclaimed when we came into view, acting like we'd been longer than the ten minutes we'd really taken. He strode towards the door, pulling it open as he casually spun his keys around on his index finger.

"Wait, aren't you guys missing school right now?" I asked suddenly, realising that it was indeed a school day, and we did indeed have a class starting right about now.

"Your point?" Stiles questioned dryly, and I hummed in vague disapproval that he quickly shrugged off, waiting by the door for me to lock up before he led the way to where the Jeep was parked in the driveway, behind my new old car, whose chipped red paint glinted in the sunlight. "Where'd you get that old thing, anyway?" the human asked as we wandered over the mostly dead grass to the Jeep.

"Mexico," I replied honestly.

"At least tell me you got a good deal," Lydia mumbled as we came to a stop beside it, giving it a look of the utmost distaste. I reached out and patted the warm metal fondly. It was nice to have some wheels of my own for once.

"Pretty good, I'd say," I smirked, stepping around her to open the Jeep's passenger door, slipping in the front and leaving the banshee to clamour into the back.

"What'd you pay?" Stiles asked curiously, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway. "Tell me it was at least under 500."

I hesitated briefly, not wanting to lie, but also not particularly wanting to tell the truth either. "It was definitely under 500," I agreed, sidestepping the question like a professional.

There was a long, drawn out beat of silence, then; "you stole it, didn't you?!"

I automatically gave a gasp of indignation, turning to stare at Stiles in fake, wide-eyed incredulity.

"Oh, don't play that," he snarked with a roll of his eyes, seeing directly through my little production.

The expression dropped from my face, giving way to a grumpy scowl. "You could at least _pretend _you believe me," I grumbled.

"_You_ could at least not rely on _thievery _to get you through life," he replied heatedly. "This isn't Oliver Twist, you can afford to buy a cheap car!"

"This was easier!"

"And _illegal_!"

"So is killing people, but I've done plenty of that!"

"That's _different_!"

"_How_?!"

"Because it just _is_! Did you forget my dad's the _Sheriff_?"

"Don't bring John into this!"

"Okay!" Lydia exclaimed from the backseat, looking wildly uncomfortable with our spat up in the front. "Why don't we put on some music?" she suggested through a tight grin, leaning forwards a little so she could meet both of our eyes. Stiles and I said nothing. "You guys have a _lot _of unresolved issues," she muttered in the quiet.

Stiles snorted in bitter amusement, "you're telling me."

We pulled up in the alley outside the police station, all climbing out and gathering at the front of the Jeep. I kept my eyes away from Stiles, whose heart was racing from beneath his ribs. "So what's the plan?" I asked cooly, arms crossed over my chest as I glanced up at the sky where the sun had just disappeared behind a bank of clouds.

There was a crinkle of paper and Lydia fished something from her handbag. "We show him this," she said simply, holding up a printed copy of the _second_ third of the list.

"Do we bring up the fact that not only are _we _inhuman, but that he _too_ is also a supernatural?" I questioned with a frown.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "In fact, it's probably best if we do all the talking."

"What?" I cried, indignant.

"You can be a little...blunt," he finished, clearly searching for the least offensive word he could find.

"Blunt?" I repeated flatly.

"Yes," he nodded, and bewildered, I turned to Lydia, who had a reluctant cringe on her face, like the last thing she wanted to do was get involved, but she clearly was in complete agreement.

"Fine," I grunted grumpily, tipping my nose in the air and turning towards the doors.

"Does that mean she agrees?" Lydia whispered to Stiles from behind me.

"It means, if we're very lucky, she'll wait to enact her revenge until _after_ we're finished here," he sighed, and I smirked proudly, pushing the door open and sliding into the heated Sheriff's Station.

The woman at the front desk gave me a warm smile. "Can I help you, sweetie?" she asked, not seeming to recognise me, which was probably a good thing. The door creaked again, and the room filled with Stiles' delicious scent along with Lydia's cherry-blossom perfume. "Stiles!" she cried in apparent joy, beaming at him like he'd given her a gift just by entering the room. "You here to see your dad?" she asked lightly.

"I'll take them through," a new voice joined the party, and I cocked my head at the newcomer, a tall deputy that I vaguely recognised from previous encounters. His scent wasn't all too familiar, and if I thought about it, there was a strange hint of _something_ inhuman. I couldn't identify it, so I probed at his energy, getting nothing but a warm strength in response.

He wasn't a vampire, or a werewolf, but he was _something;_ and I sure as hell was going to figure out what.

"This way, guys," Parrish said with a smile, holding open the door and cheerfully waving us through. I looked back at the others, who both nodded back, leading the way and following him through to the offices beyond. "Your dad should be back within the hour, you wanna wait in his office?" the deputy offered kindly, sweeping a hand in the direction of the Sheriff's office.

"Actually, we wanna talk to _you_," Stiles said awkwardly.

"...Privately," Lydia added, and there was a long, pregnant pause.

I expected him to have more questions, but finally he merely nodded, turning and leading the way into an empty office, different awards and trophies mounted around the room with pride.

"What's this about?" he asked once the door had closed properly, looking at the three of us with unbridled curiosity.

"It's kind of hard to explain," Stiles began, nudging Lydia who held out the folded paper containing the dead pool. Hesitating only a beat, Parrish reached out and took it, peering down at it through narrowed eyes. "This is gonna sound ridiculous, but it's absolutely true," the human said bracingly, stood in front of the deputy, who only stared down at the paper in curious confusion. Everyone in the room with a working heart had a pulse that was racing, the tension in the room palpable. "Everyone on this list is going to be killed."

Again, a long pause stretched out, and I wondered how this Parrish guy was going to respond. Would he think it's a joke? Would he take us to the Sheriff? Would he try and have us committed?

"This is a hit list?" he finally asked, his voice a hell of a lot calmer than his heart rate.

"We call it a dead pool," Stiles corrected him, arms crossed over his chest. "Do you recognise any of the names?"

"Yeah," the deputy nodded. "The Sheriff had me run a bunch of these through the system last night," he admitted, and I realised that Stiles must have sent a copy to his dad as soon as he'd gotten one. "But we couldn't find any of them," Parrish finished, still confused.

Stiles nodded, "show him the other thing."

There was a long pause and Lydia was reluctant to comply. I rolled my eyes, reaching out and carelessly flipping the paper, revealing the final name – _his name_ – printed across the bottom of the list. The cop's eyes went wide, and his heart rate doubled. He leapt up from where he'd been casually perched on the edge of the desk, swallowing loudly in the small office we were cramped in.

"Okay, that's kind of terrifying," he admitted lowly, gripping the paper so tightly that it crinkled. "What's the number?" he questioned, confused.

"That's how much you're worth," Lydia revealed slowly, clearly not wanting to frighten the man.

Parrish spun around to stare at us with wide, indignant eyes. "I'm worth five dollars?" he demanded incredulously.

"Five _million_," Stiles corrected with the sigh of an overworked teacher.

Parrish gaped. "I only make forty thousand a year," he blinked in surprise and consternation. "Maybe I should kill myself," he added in the hollow voice of a shocked man.

I snorted, leaning back against the desk as he had, tossing the others an amused smirk. Stiles shot me a stern look, and, remembering my orders, I mimed zipping my lips shut tight. The human rolled his eyes.

"I don't get it," the unknown supernatural exclaimed in continued confusion. "Why am I on this?"

"Honestly, that might be a question for another day," Stiles huffed. "Right now, there's still another third of the list we've gotta crack."

"We need the third cipher key," Lydia added, but if Parrish was lost, he didn't show it. "But we need help getting it."

"From who?" the deputy questioned curiously.

Lydia paused, the silence heavy. "...Meredith," she finally answered, eyeing him closely like she wasn't sure he wasn't about to commit _her._

"The girl from Eichen?" Parrish's eyes were wide and disbelieving. "The last time you saw her, you almost gave her a nervous breakdown," he sighed, moving over to the door and yanking it open, a clear gesture telling us to get the hell out.

"Uh – _almost_," Lydia repeated pointedly, and Stiles sighed in defeat. I huffed out another laugh, standing straight and pushing my way passed the pair of teenagers who were getting us nowhere.

"Look, kid," I began to say to Parrish, shoulders squared and eyebrow cocked.

"Kid?" he repeated bewilderedly. "I'm older than you."

From behind me, Stiles gave a single bark of laughter. "Keep thinking that," I said distractedly, not in the mood for an argument over semantics. "Look, we _need _to see Meredith Walker," I told him honestly. "We are literally trying to _save lives_ here."

Parrish sighed, closing the door again and leaning back against it, staring at us with a careful, calculating gaze.

"If we can get the final cipher key and decode the last list, we can _warn _these people that they're in danger; that gives them a fighting chance," Lydia said logically, her voice calm and measured. I nodded, punctuating the statement with a hum of agreement.

Parrish sighed a second time, closing his eyes like he could believe he was considering abusing his badge and going on three kids' word that there were innocent people in danger.

The deputy opened his eyes and met Lydia's with a decisive nod. "Okay," he relented reluctantly, grimacing at himself quickly. "Okay, you can _talk _to her," he said as sternly as he could. I got the feeling he wasn't a very _stern _guy in general. "But if things get heated again..." he trailed off, but Lydia was already nodding.

"Can we go now?" Stiles burst in eagerly, and Parrish sighed again, running a hand down the length of his face before nodding.

"Did you drive here?" he asked succinctly. Stiles nodded. "Then follow me to Eichen House; I can get you in to see Meredith."

"_Thank_ you," Lydia said gratefully, her words overflowing with sincerity.

Parrish met her eyes, a blank sort of glint to his, but the stutter of his heart gave him away. I had a feeling things were going to get complicated, quickly.


	72. Sanctified

_Follow me to the river_

_In over your head this time_

_I'll take you down to the river_

_Baby, just you and I (baby, just you and I)_

_I push you down a little deeper_

_Under the full moon sky_

_I'll get you a little closer_

_Just one breath from the other side_

Sanctified – The Veronicas

* * *

Eichen House was creepy, and coming from _me_, that was fucking saying something.

It towered over you like a living thing, and with every gust of wind it seemed to breathe, creaking like it was made of dry bones and old joints.

We walked inside, and I had the strong urge to slip my hand into Stiles'. The human's heart sped up in terror, though he would die before admitting it. I could smell his anxiety, the scent clung to him like a second skin from the moment the mad house came into sight. I was concerned, but how was I supposed to do anything to comfort him? Touching him was out of the question, and I doubted there was anything I could say that would make him feel any better.

The front desk was empty, nothing but a little bell laid out to alert anyone that we were there. Deputy Parrish tapped on the bell twice, the light, tinkling sound jarring in the dark, morose atmosphere of Eichen House.

I was glaring at a crack in the floor, hating myself for not being able to help Stiles, when a hand slipped into mine. Instead of flinching I went very still, as though turned to stone. Fingers curled through mine, warm skin slipping over mine like velvet. I sighed silently, closing my eyes at the contact but keeping my hand limp. Stiles squeezed gently, his body moving closer.

I vaguely noticed someone appear from a door through the back, dressed all in white, hair greasy like it hadn't been washed for days; beyond that I couldn't process it, too enraptured by the contact with Stiles.

His body was so close, I could feel his warmth emanating like the rays of the sun, except instead of weakening me, I found incredible strength in the heat. Careful, half afraid I might break him, I tightened my hold until I was squeezing back. Stiles' heart rate didn't seem to slow down, but he did seem to breathe just that little bit easier.

Parrish flashed the guards his badge, having a quick and hushed conversation with the orderly behind the desk, before the man gave a ogre-like grunt and pushed his way out into the foyer, motioning vaguely for us to follow him.

Parrish moved first, Lydia next, and Stiles and I went last, content to sit at the back of the group.

I wished I could take credit for the wild thumping of Stiles' pulse, but I could tell from the sweat on his palm and the tinge of anxiety to his scent that he was just terrified to be back in this awful place. Unthinking, not acting mostly on instinct, I leaned into him like I would have before the whole Void ordeal, squeezing our joined hands tighter and brushing my thumb along the skin of his wrist, the gesture so intimate it made me ache.

We took the stairs, and Stiles lagged behind, leaving me to drag him along by our joined hands. He kept looking up through the centre of the winding staircase, a glint of reminiscent horror in his usually-warm eyes. I clutched him tighter.

The hallways were small and cramped, but we managed to fit, watching as the orderly began the slow process of unlocking the door that I assumed was Meredith's.

"Oh no, not this guy," Stiles said abruptly, the first words uttered by any of us since we'd left the foyer. We all looked up at him, and I heard the sound of heavy footsteps heading towards us. Startled, I turned to look, casting a warning glare at the newcomer, who made Stiles' heart leap with anxiety.

"What the hell are we running here? A bed and breakfast?" the guy in green scrubs demanded of his orderly in pure condescension. He shoved his way passed us, unapologetically knocking me backwards into Lydia, who grunted at the impact. Stiles pulled me back, casting a glare of absolute loathing at the man now growling at the orderly. "You do _not _just open the door for anyone with a badge," he snarled, snatching the keys from his hand.

"We need to talk to Meredith Walker," the deputy said calmly. "It involves a murder investigation," he added, unruffled by the man's rude demeanour.

"Well _you _can talk to her all you want," the guy, who was apparently in charge, snapped at the lot of us cruelly, "but these three?" He gave a tight lipped growl. "Especially _that _one," he added cruelly with a sneer at Stiles, and I felt my nostrils flare as my eyes began to fill with blood. "They're out of here." Stiles squeezed my hand, a soft warning, and I grit my teeth as I struggled to rein the beast in.

"They are crucial witnesses in an ongoing investigation," Parrish replied calmly. "I wouldn't have brought them here if it wasn't absolutely...crucial."

I cringed, wishing he'd kept his cool for just that moment longer. I was reminded this guy was still young, he still had a long way to go, particularly since he didn't know what he truly was yet.

"Okay, deputy," the glorified nurse sneered down his nose at the officer, the look in his eyes saying that he'd already won. "How about you come back with a court order? _Then, _I'll listen." There was a pregnant pause before his beady little eyes slid around to focus on Stiles. "As for you, Mr Stilinski," he said condescendingly, like there was something lesser about his _name_. "How about you come back, with payment in full? That's right, daddy may be the Sheriff but he's late on the bills," he sneered. Furious, I stepped forwards, but Stiles didn't even hesitate in slipping an arm around my waist to hold me back. I growled, the sound echoing slightly, but the nurse wasn't even slightly intimidated. I ground my teeth together, my fangs pressing dangerously at the seam of my lips. The man's eyes slid to me, quickly flickering up and down my form in a casual perusal, and Stiles' arm around me tightened noticeably. "I guess those Government jobs aren't as reliable as they used to be, eh?" he finally finished, a triumphant smirk on his ugly face.

I was so close to attacking him, I could feel the rage inside me like coke in a shaken bottle, the bubbles pressing at the lid, so very close to exploding. This would be one hell of a mess to clean up, that much was certain. I tried not to growl a second time, it was suspicious enough the first.

"Well, they do help when you need a favour," Parrish spoke so abruptly that it made me blink, looking away from the sick creep in charge of this horrid place and frowning at the young deputy, wondering what he was doing. "Like how a month ago, Cain and PD helped _you _get home after blowing a .1 on a breathalyser," he finished with somewhat of an impish smirk.

Stiles smirked smugly, but I still vibrated with angry energy, struggling to let go of the seething rage. Stiles' arm tightened around me again, almost imperceptibly, but I relaxed under the light reminder to keep my cool.

"Alright," the nurse gave a false grin, bitter and no doubt planning revenge. "I'm not against a little...quid pro quo," he sneered, voice like acid. "Not at all," he hissed darkly, frustration and loathing practically seeping from his pores.

I bared my teeth back, just a hint of fang showing, enough to make him uneasy as he turned and stormed away, harshly depositing the keys into Stiles' hand.

"You!" Stiles grinned widely at the deputy as the gigantic walking _prick_ disappeared around the corner. "I _like _you," he praised, patting Parrish on the shoulder cheerfully. "I'm gonna keep you!"

Parrish gave somewhat of a grin, but quickly deemed it inappropriate and wiped it from his face. Turned, he slid the keys into the lock, turning it and pushing the door open with an ominous creak. Meredith sat on the bed in a near pitch black room, staring hollowly at the opposite wall. She turned once she was fully bathed in the light from the corridor, cocking her head at the four of us knowingly.

"Hi Meredith," Lydia greeted the patient gently, like she might break down screaming when confronted with anything but a whisper. "Can we talk to you?"

This was the first time I'd met Meredith, and I had to say that I was surprised by what I saw. It was almost, in a way, anticlimactic. Her head of coiled, dry hair sat atop her head, and her eyes were glazed, whether from the drugs or the voices, I couldn't be sure.

"Yes," she finally answered, her voice small and gentle.

"We need your help again," the redheaded banshee said softly, shuffling further into the room. Stiles reluctantly let go of my hand and followed after her, and I made to step inside too, only to be blocked by a barrier in the doorway.

I cussed, irritatedly pressing a hand against the invisible wall. "You can't get in?" Lydia sounded bewildered, tossing an alarmed look back at me.

"The rules say I can't enter where a human calls home," I muttered to her bitterly, thankfully Parrish wasn't paying attention, on the phone a few steps away, not listening to our strange conversation. "I guess she calls this place home."

"Meredith, can you invite my...can you invite Juliet inside, please?" Stiles asked her like he might speak to a young child, a placating smile on his handsome face. I creased my brow at his hesitation, but knew this wasn't the time to question it.

Meredith smiled, but the expression was thin. "No," she answered simply, and I grit my teeth in frustration. It wasn't exactly as though I could blame her; I probably wouldn't invite me inside either.

"We don't have time for this," Lydia muttered, turning back to Meredith, a woman on a mission.

"I know why you're here," the other banshee said, her voice hoarse like she'd just finished screaming. "You want the final name," she murmured, and Lydia and Stiles' hearts leapt with hope. "I can't tell you."

Lydia took a deep, calming breath in, taking a heavy seat on the bed beside Meredith's, placing her hands on her knees and staring across at the other banshee at serenely as she could. "Meredith, what do you mean you can't tell us?" she asked with strained patience.

"We just need the third key," Stiles said placatingly. "You can give it to us in numbers, letters, hieroglyphs, whatever you want!"

"I can't," the banshee sounded regretful, and I leaned against the barrier, keeping my attention on her heartbeat, taking in it's stutters, instinctively looking for a lie.

"Then why did you give us the second key?" Lydia asked, exasperated.

"I wanted to help." Meredith sounded wistful, and I idly wondered what happened to her family before I got ahold of myself and returned my focus to the situation at hand. "That's what I wanna do, I wanna help," her eyes glinted with helpless sadness, and I frowned at the poor little thing, feeling something akin to pity run through my veins.

"Great!" Lydia exclaimed happily, keeping things light. "So help us now, okay? Give us the third cipher key."

Parrish got off his call, shooting me an odd look when he saw me hesitating outside the room. I gestured for him to go through, and he shuffled passed me, thankfully leaving the door open, seeming to sense I wasn't going to be entering the padded little room any time soon.

"Things have changed," with every passing moment Meredith was becoming less a numb, hollow teenager and more a frightened, helpless little girl. I pressed again against the barrier, wanting to help but having no idea how. "I can't..."

"Why not?" Stiles prompted when it became clear Meredith wasn't going to finish her sentence.

"Guys," Parrish said, noting the sharpness in Stiles' desperate tone. "Go easy on her."

"I'm sorry," Meredith was growing distraught. "I can't..._he _doesn't want me to."

"He?" Stiles caught the word just as I had, shifting forwards from where he was sitting on the bed beside Lydia, eyes focused on Meredith, who shifted under the gaze. "Who's _he_?"

"Meredith," Lydia said with as much patience as she was physically able to spare. "_Who_ doesn't want you to tell us about the third cipher key?" she pressed, a desperate glint to her eyes.

Meredith hesitated, shifting her dark eyes between all of us uneasily, until finally she muttered, in a small, reluctant voice, "the Benefactor."

There was a pregnant pause in which we all took the time to process this information. "Did you just say the _Benefactor_?" Stiles finally asked, incredulous. Meredith nodded meekly.

"What do _you_ know about the Benefactor?" I asked the girl, who winced at my question and elected not to answer. Her pulse sped up, heart hammering in her chest under the stress. "She knows something," I told the others, ignoring Parrish, who was clearly trying to figure out where I was getting my information.

"Do you know his name?" Lydia asked suddenly, and Meredith visibly flinched. "What's his name?" she demanded abruptly, losing her cool. "Ugh, just tell us his name!" she exclaimed tactlessly, and I shot her a scolding look that went unnoticed.

The banshee met none of our eyes, staring unseeingly at the floor as she shook her head from side to side, a cool sweat breaking out over her skin. I could smell it from where I stood, she reeked of anxiety.

"Okay, you're shaking your head; what does that mean?" Stiles asked, a tad more patient than Lydia, thank fuck. "Does that mean you don't know, or that you don't want to help us?"

Meredith gave a shaky breath. "I-I-I can't help...I can't help anymore," her eyes became glassy with tears, and her heart sped up under the pressure.

"How do you know about him?" Lydia asked, determined for answers.

The banshee began to shake her head more violently, rocking forwards as she did in a way that was clearly comfort-seeking.

"Guys, I think we'd better stop," Parrish said wisely.

"He's right," I added, leaning as far into the room as I was physically able.

"Meredith, a _lot _of people are going to die if you don't tell us!" Lydia hissed, growing desperate.

"I don't know, I don't know – _please_!" Meredith was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, and I grit my teeth against my concern.

"Lydia, we need to stop!" I said to the red haired banshee. "I think you're scaring her."

"That's rich, coming from you," Lydia sniped back, causing offence and shame to trickle through my system like water.

"Meredith, it's going to be okay," Parrish was saying, and things were getting out of hand fast. She was beyond panic, moving into something of an episode, and I watched in worry as it all came to a crescendo in a scream from a wailing woman. I flinched at the sound of it, ducking instinctively to cover my head and ears, but it was over before it had barely begun, and I stood back to my full height, surveying the room in surprise.

Stiles had his arms over Lydia, who was clutching her head in agony, and Parrish was dumbfounded by the deafening sound. I breathed in, hoping to calm my upset stomach, only for the tantalising scent of blood to reach me. Like a button pressed inside of me, hunger reared it's ugly head and my fangs slipped free of my gums.

Clamping a hand over my mouth in an effort to keep myself from hissing, I turned and legged it, not giving the room a second look as I raced through the halls, bypassing the stairs all together and dropping the few floors down, landing on the ground in a crouch.

Bursting outside into the fresh air was like breathing for the first time after being held underwater. I sucked in the clean, uncontaminated air, letting my nose readjust to the scent of gasoline and dry dirt that clung to Eichen House like a smog.

My first instinct was to get a cigarette, and I easily let myself out of the mad house's yard, stepping onto the curb and leaning my weight against the Jeep. I inhaled deeply, sighing happily at the relief the chemicals from the smoke gave me.

It was a long, long few minutes before anyone came outside. Finally, when I began to contemplate forcing myself back inside to check on them, Stiles, Lydia and Parrish wandered from the doorway, making a beeline for the gate. Stiles gave a loud sigh of relief when we saw me leaned casually against his beloved Jeep, unharmed and not covered in even a drop of blood.

"You okay?" the human asked, and I nodded my head, dropping what remained of my cigarette to the concrete and crushing it with my heel.

"I'm fine," I assured him, casting a wary glance at Parrish who was stood a few feet away, murmuring into his radio hurriedly. "Just...had to get out of there."

"Yeah," Stiles nodded, showing he understood. I too felt relieved, knowing he _got_ it.

"Will you guys be okay to make it home alone?" the deputy asked us suddenly, and Lydia jumped at the sudden question, making him cast her a frown.

"We'll be fine," Stiles assured him quickly. "Thanks," he said sincerely, and Parrish gave a half-smile.

"No problem," he murmured, "sorry you didn't get the answers you were looking for." He paused, pulling his cruiser's keys from his pocket and fiddling with them for a moment. "Keep me in the loop?" he requested gently, and Stiles hurried to nod.

"Of course, man," he promised, and Parrish gave a final smile to Lydia and I before scurrying over to his police car and climbing in, starting it up and driving away. "Come on," Stiles said once the sound of his engine had long since faded into the distance. "Let's go...sort this out."

* * *

Being in Stiles room was like being treated but tortured in the same instance.

It was wonderful, because I was immersed in his scent and in the hub of his life, because I felt connected to him, and because I could starkly remember all the wonderful things that had happened there.

It was awful for the exact same reasons.

"Okay, well, we know one thing," Stiles was saying, pacing the length of the room as he brainstormed. Lydia sat at the desk on the computer, and I was reclined on the end of his bed, keeping myself from breathing in an effort to keep his scent from invading my head and making my brain go fuzzy with need. "Both of the first two keys, Allison and Aidan, they're both names of the dead, right?"

"But we've already tried every other dead person's name we can think of," Lydia complained hoarsely, exhausted from the day's events. I tossed Stiles' old hacky sack into the air, catching it before it could fall onto to my face. "And, if you haven't noticed, there were a lot of tries."

"Yeah, I noticed," Stiles snapped, clearly communicating that this _wasn't helping._ Lydia sighed, dropping her head into her hands, and I stopped entertaining myself with my solo game of catch, turning my attention to her. "You okay?" Stiles thankfully asked for me, saving me the awkward trouble.

"The only other banshee I've ever met, and I think I might have just drove her over the edge," Lydia murmured, sounding disappointed in herself. I wondered what I could possibly say, what type of thing helped in this sort of situation?

"Lydia, it wasn't your fault," Stiles told her lowly, shoulders hunched tiredly. "I was there too – so was Jules," he said, gesturing back at me.

"Looked to me like, at this point, just about anything would have driven her over the edge," I told the banshee, who attempted a smile, but failed tremendously, only ending up looking sadder. "We had to try," I reminded her quietly, and though she nodded, the look in her glazed eyes was distant.

"Besides, you're probably not the only-" Stiles began to say, only to freeze, his heart suddenly speeding up from beneath his ribs. "Hold on..." he murmured to himself, and I sat up properly, suddenly alert.

"Stiles?" I asked, reaching out a hand to gently brush his arm, jolting him back to the present.

"Banshees predict death," he said slowly, looking between Lydia and I. "So what if the third key, isn't someone who's dead..."

"...But will be," the banshee herself finished, and I ground my teeth, suddenly anxious about our train of thought.

We knew what we had to do, and that was terrifying in and of itself. I climbed to my feet, stepping around Stiles and settling in on Lydia's other side, staring down at the computer screen warily. "You can do this, Lydia," I murmured to the banshee in what I sincerely hoped was an encouraging voice. She took a deep, shaky breath and nodded, closing her eyes and falling absolutely silent.

I expected her heart to speed up, but instead it slowed down, like it might when one was asleep. I watched in slight awe and incredible trepidation as her fingers hovered over the keys. The silence stretched, and neither Stiles nor I made even a slight sound, staring at the screen, waiting for the key to be written.

As soon as Lydia wrote the first letter, I knew in my gut who it was.

_Derek._

Lydia opened her eyes, grimaced, then hit enter. There was a flash of code, then the names and figures began to appear on the screen like magic. I swallowed, watching as Malia, Liam _and _Meredith were all revealed to be on the final list.

My eyes were locked onto Malia's name, however, shocked by what was written after it.

_Malia Hale._

Hale? But that wasn't possible, was it? It didn't make any sense.

"Call Parrish," Lydia demanded, and I jerked my attention back to the room. This was something I could worry about later, there were much more pressing issues at hand. "We need to call Parrish. Now."

Stiles was already handing her her phone. "Will anyone be able to get to Meredith from in there?" I asked the human lowly as Lydia was dialling the deputy's number. "Surely she's safe," I added with a somewhat stubborn frown.

"They infiltrated school," he murmured back hollowly, reminding me of the Orphans, my mouth twisting into a bitter grimace. "I'm sure they could get someone into Eichen."

I sighed, pressing a hand to my temple and trying to rub away the growing headache. The call from Lydia's phone began to ring, and I focused in on the sound, listening to what was happening on the other end.

"_Lydia?_" Parrish answered, sounding rather deflated.

"We need to get Meredith to safety!" Lydia exclaimed without preamble, sounding frightened. "She's in danger."

There was a long pause on the other end of the call, one heavy with everything that wasn't being said. "_Lydia_..." Parrish began carefully, and I immediately knew he wasn't going to say anything good. "_Meredith's gone_."

"What are you talking about?" the banshee demanded, climbing to her feet, her pulse racing with terror. She already knew the truth.

"_Lydia, Meredith's gone_," Parrish repeated with absolute patience. "_They found her an hour ago in her room – she hung herself._"

Everything was silent, Lydia didn't even breathe, frozen as she processed this. Without realising it my hand had come up to cover my mouth, shocked beyond words by this news.

I'd been around death before. I'd written about it, felt it, caused it, _experienced_ it. But this felt different, this felt too real, like every other death before had been expected and this one had ripped my world out from under me.

Maybe it was because of how uniquely innocent Meredith was, or maybe it was because this wasn't an accident and this wasn't medical and this _wasn't _murder. There was nobody to blame it on, nobody to take revenge on. This was _suicide_, and it felt so unreal.

Lydia didn't even hang up the phone call, she just turned around, eyes glassy and unseeing. Stiles gathered her in his arms, gently embracing her.

I couldn't find it within me to feel jealous, how could I? The only other one of her kind she knew, was gone, to _suicide_, and we were the last people to see her alive. I swallowed thickly, my emotions raging like a storm on the edge of my consciousness.

It was awful, I should have been mourning Meredith, but I didn't know the girl, I didn't know her at all. Instead, the only face floating in my mind's eye was Allison, the most recent close death that I'd experienced. I swallowed, a lump suddenly sitting in my throat, eyes suddenly stinging without my permission.

"Can you bring her back?" Lydia asked hollowly, and I looked up in surprise. A long few minutes had passed, and the banshee had gathered herself together again, pulling numbly away from a sympathetic looking Stiles. I realised she was talking to me, and I blinked back at her, not understanding.

"_Me_?" I asked, bemused by the request.

"You're a vampire," she said, sniffling delicately and giving a loud swallow. "Can't you bring her back? Like you?"

I stared back at her with saddened misery. "Even if that were possible, it isn't what you would really want," I replied softly, remained folded on top of Stiles' bedspread, blinking up at her dully.

Lydia sniffled again, running her perfectly manicured fingernails under her eyes, catching the stray drops of water dotting her cheeks.

"I think I just need to go home," she finally murmured, looking suddenly exhausted.

"I'll take you," Stiles nodded instantly.

Silently, I climbed to my feet, running my hands down the front of my clothes. "I'll see you later," I told them, taking this as my cue to leave. "Take care."

"Stay!" Stiles' voice stopped me when I was halfway out the door. I froze, turning around and looking back at him over my shoulder. I didn't speak, and Stiles swallowed loudly, unsure where to focus his gaze. Lydia had paused where she'd been picking up her jacket, her tired eyes flickering between the human and I. "I mean, it's only a ten minute round trip," he murmured, heart stuttering in his chest nervously. "I'll be back soon, and then..."

I wasn't sure what would happen _then_, but I was too scared to _not _wait and find out. Taking a step backwards, I reclaimed my position sprawled on his bed, legs tucked up under me as I watched him, wondering what he would do next.

There was a pregnant pause.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" I eventually offered Lydia, who attempted something of a smile, sadness still smeared on her like a coat of paint.

"I've already taken the PSATs," she replied quietly.

"So have I, in 1986," I responded with a wink, aiming for lighthearted. The comment got her to smile, if only for a split second.

"Good luck, nevertheless," she said softly, and I shot her what I hoped was a comforting smile before she ducked around Stiles and slipped out into the hall.

Stiles waited behind, hesitating in the doorway. "You'll stay here?" he confirmed warily, as though not sure whether to believe me or not.

"I won't move a muscle," I swore, and he gave an unconvincing smile before heading out after Lydia. I listened thoughtfully as the front door opened and shut, then his Jeep started up and the sound of his engine disappeared around the corner.

I remained still for another minute, then slowly climbed to my feet. His room smelled like him, threatening to drive me crazy. Still, it was a safe way to once again acclimatise to his scent, and I inhaled deeply, letting his minty-chocolatey smell fill my head like smoke. My throat burned with hunger, but in my chest I felt comfortable and warm.

Like I was at home.

His large clear board stood in the centre of the room, but I wasn't in the mood to go over the clues taped across it. Instead I wandered around it, running my fingers over the random books and bits and bobs he had laying across his room.

On the chest of drawers in the far corner sat a small handful of framed photographs. One of his mom and dad and a baby Stiles, one of Scott and him at a carnival of some kind, and one of me and him, the same one I had in my room. I reached out to touch it, running a finger down the glass covering the photograph, thinking fondly of how I'd felt the day it was taken.

Things were so simple back then. Ignorance really _is_ bliss.

Sooner that I'd thought, the Jeep's engine was rumbling back up the road, and I hurried back to my position on Stiles' bed, reclining back as I had before and waiting for Stiles to noisily re-enter the house, tripping up the stairs and tumbling through his open doorway, sighing in something like relief when he saw I was exactly where he'd left me.

I said nothing, cocking my head as I observed him, waiting for him to do something, rather than taking the leap myself. I was a coward like that.

"Uh, are you okay?" he finally asked, striding across the room and taking a seat on his desk chair.

"Yes," I replied on instinct, but Stiles didn't look convinced. I sighed, reaching up to rub at my forehead.

"I saw your expression when we found out Meredith..." he trailed off, clearly not wanting to say it aloud. "That she was gone," he settled for saying, clearing his throat as the reality seemed to briefly overwhelm him. "It isn't like to be so..."

"Caring?" I supplied bitterly.

"Affected," he corrected gently.

I wasn't sure what to say, hesitating as I struggled to find the right words to convey the storm raging up inside my head. "It isn't Meredith," I admitted with a sigh, leaning over and bracing my forearms on my knees, head hung, overwhelmed myself. "It just reminded me of-"

"Allison," Stiles finished knowingly, and my throat seemed to contract at the name. "I guess you probably don't feel like you got any closure, huh?" he murmured thoughtfully.

"What is this, a fucking therapy session?" I lashed out instinctively, snapping my head back up to scowl at him threateningly.

Stiles remained surprisingly calm, merely frowning at me as he took in my harsh reaction. "Don't do that," he begged me, voice quiet, eyes alight with emotion. "Don't shut me out because I'm getting too close."

I sucked in a sharp breath, letting his scent calm me rather than excite me. "When did you get so wise?" I asked weakly, hanging my head once again, defeated.

"Stranger things have happened," he murmured back, a smirk in his voice. "You miss her?"

"Don't you?" I countered with a scoff, looking up at him, brow furrowed with barely concealed pain.

"Of course," he agreed easily. We were quiet again. "It's my fault she's dead," he muttered suddenly, and fury burst forth in me like a flare on the sun.

"It's _my _fault," I snapped back firmly, refusing to let him take it onto himself. "If I hadn't gone dark side, I could have protected her. I could have stopped it from happening. I could have-"

"If I hadn't let myself get possessed, the Oni never would have been there in the first place-"

"If it hadn't been you, it just would have been someone else-"

"I wish it had!" he shouted, and I blinked in surprise. He sighed, ducking his head and rubbing tiredly at the back of his neck. "I wish it _had _been somebody else."

I sighed gently. "I wish it had too."

We allowed the room to settled into silence, and I listened to the steady thumping of his heart. Dropping my head again, I let the repetitive sound soothe me like a lullaby. I wished things were like they were before, so I could kick off my shoes and burrow under the human's covers as though I'd been born to do so.

"Allison didn't blame you," he murmured so abruptly that I nearly flinched.

Looking up, he got a good look at my bemused expression. "And how would you know?" I asked, genuinely curious. "It isn't like we can ask her," I added, my voice taking on a bitter quality.

"I know because she was my friend," Stiles said assuredly, and I met his eyes, noting the stubborn glint to them. I wasn't going to be able to convince him otherwise, of that much I was certain. "She loved you," he reminded me gently, "because she was your friend, too."

I was at a loss for what to say, because what I could _possibly_ come up with to counter with? But I was saved from responding by the shrill beeping of Stiles' phone. He fished it from his pocket, staring down at the screen for a long moment, brow furrowed as he read his received message.

"I've got to go," he said through a frown, climbing to his feet and patting his pockets to make sure he had everything.

"Is everything okay?" I asked gingerly, standing from where I was laid on the bed, arms crossed over my chest.

"Yeah, it's just Scott," the human shrugged. "I'm sure everything's fine, he just wants to talk." Stiles turned headed for the door and nodding for me to follow him. I let him lead me out, marching down the stairs behind him and winding through the house until we reached the front door.

"I'll see you tomorrow for the PSATs," I told him as we stepped out into the frigid night air.

"Oh, I can't drive you home?"

I tried not to notice the disappointed quality to his voice, as well as the clenching of my stomach and the heat that spread through my veins like the most delicious sort of poison.

"Scott's house is in the opposite direction," I told him gently, instead of voicing any of these things like a rational human being would do...though that was just it, wasn't it? _I wasn't human_. "I'll just catch up with you both tomorrow," I assured him calmly, and he swallowed, nodding his head and turning away.

I watched him go, trying to pretend like he wasn't taking a piece of my dead heart with him as he left.

* * *

If I thought managing my thirst on an average day was difficult, it was nothing the day of the PSATs. The human hearts around me where pounding like they were trying to escape their cages of bone, and each of them reeked that sickly-sweet stench of anxiety and stress hormones.

I fixed my trademark, apathetic glare onto my face so that any human who dared enter my bubble of personal space was instantly frightened half to death, enough to make them all give me a wide, healthy berth.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed," Scott said playfully as I caught up to him on the way into the school building.

"It's an offence mechanism," I responded dryly.

"I think you mean _defence_-"

"I said what I meant," I said back from the corner of my mouth, glowering at a student who came a _little_ too close, smelling a _lot_ too delicious.

"Uh oh! Jules is making her 'I want to tear into a human neck and feast on their blood' face," Stiles said conversationally as both Scott and I sidled up beside the others, who stood towards the back of the line, everyone waiting nervously for the test to begin.

"I thought that was her 'it's Saturday' face," Malia responded dryly.

"They are very similar, aren't they?" Stiles mused, and I took the opportunity to gently smack him upside the head. He flinched and turned to glower at me, but there was a glint to his eyes that was fond, like somehow the action had been a gift, rather than a punishment.

"Where's Lydia?" Kira spoke up, voice curious as she looked around, searching for the genius banshee.

"She took it her freshman year," Stiles responded without missing a beat.

Malia paused, turning to look at the human with desperate anger in her eyes. "Does that mean I could have taken it some other time?" she hissed, pulse racing with anxiety.

"Malia," Scott interjected softly. "You studied harder for this than any of us."

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna do good," she snapped back.

"Well," Stiles corrected.

"Well _what?_" she snapped impatiently.

"It's do _well_, not _good_."

"God!" she exclaimed harshly, a scowl on her face that made Stiles flinch back warily.

"You're doing this," Scott stepped in, staring back at the nervous were-coyote with wide, comforting eyes, "because while we're trying not to die, we still need to live." I frowned at his words. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that these kids were just that; _kids_. "If I survive high school, I'd like to go to college; a _good _college," the teen wolf said, a pensive glint to his puppy-dog eyes.

"It's only three hours," Kira piped up in the most forced cheerful tone I had ever heard. "We can survive three hours."

I turned to look at her through an annoyed glare. Now that she'd said as much, something was certain to go catastrophically wrong.

The door at the front of the line cracked open, and an unfamiliar man poked his head out through the gap. "File inside in an orderly line," he instructed without preamble. "From there, you know what to do."

Having done this particular test more than once in my unfairly long life, I sighed, leaning back until my skull cracked against the lockers behind me, leaving a small indent in the thin metal.

"I can't believe I have to sit through another one of these things," I growled to the group at large, a scowl sitting comfortably on my lips.

"How many times have you done it?" Kira asked curiously, and I lifted my shoulders in a vague shrug.

"Half a dozen or so?" I murmured. "I dunno."

"But aren't there procedures in place to stop people from repeating it like that?" Kira asked, befuddled. "How did you get around that?"

"Compulsion, petty larceny, identity theft," I listed, growing bored and giving another halfhearted shrug.

"Don't comment, just nod," Stiles murmured to the others, who all followed his instructions, each looking varying degrees of bewildered. We filed into the classroom, the man stood behind the desk and a woman who I didn't know though looked vaguely familiar was placed off to the side.

We had to press our thumbs into ink, then place our fingerprint on the paper, thus identifying each paper to each specific person. I complied, then yanked my shitty, outdated phone from the back pocket of my shorts, dropping it into the bag held open by the strangely familiar, expectant lady, tossing her a cursory glance before continuing down the isle, taking a seat in the middle of the room, sliding down in my chair and irritatedly tapping the eraser of my supplied pencil on the cheap, polished wood of the supplied desk.

Stiles plopped into the desk beside, me, an unnecessary three pencils in his grip. He shot me a nervous grin, waving though keeping silent, and I couldn't help but smile in response.

The man in front began to rattle on about the rules and regulations of the test, but I paid little attention, focusing on breathing through my mouth and trying not to take notice of all the elevated heart rates surrounding me.

There was some sort of drama surrounding the whereabouts of Coach, but I didn't listen in, busy counting the cracks in the ceiling and ignoring the stench of anxiety that had flooded the room.

"You may now open your textbooks, and begin," the teacher in charge _finally _said, and I huffed, sitting upright in my chair and cracking open the workbook, beginning to gruelling task of colouring in a billion fucking bubbles so a board of old, straight, white men could determine my level of worth and intelligence.

The test wasn't easy by any means, but it sure felt that way when you cared very little about your results. I calmly read through the booklet, deciding not to choose answers at random and instead gave it a go. It was calming, in a way, like the constant, bloodthirsty noise that filled my brain went quiet as I considered the problems laid out before me.

"Jules," Stiles breathed almost imperceptibly from my left, and I looked up sharply, not having expected it. Nobody seemed to pay my movement any attention, and I brushed my hair back casually, like it had been my intention all along. I couldn't respond to the human, but I twisted my body so I was slightly angled in his direction, a silent signal that I was listening. "What's the answer to question 31?" he breathed silently.

I couldn't help but laugh, the sound more of a snort as it rippled through my chest. I hurried to change the reaction into a cough, and although the creepy teacher up the front didn't look convinced, he said nothing, going back to scanning the room with beady eyes.

Glancing over, I saw an almost invisible smirk sitting on Stiles' lovely lips, and I smirked back. Knowing I couldn't very well whisper back to him without somebody hearing, I dropped my left hand to my leg, making sure that he was watching from the corner of his eye.

_B_, I drew on my skin as clearly as I could, and he gave an otherwise undetectable nod in response, that perfect smirk remaining in place. Fondness surged through me so strongly that I had to take a deep breath to switch my focus back to the task at hand.

Before I could fully concentrate on the next question, there was an unexplainable stutter of a heart from behind me that caught my attention, and I turned around in my chair just in time to see the student sitting directly behind me collapse to the floor.

"Sydney!" the woman teacher up the front exclaimed, hurrying forwards, her high heels clacking against the floor. "Are you alright?" she asked, crouching down and helping the woozy girl upright.

"I'm okay," the girl reassured her, cheeks flushed pink and making hunger roar in my gut like an angry bear. "I just got...dizzy," she murmured, embarrassed.

There was a pause, and the teacher seemed convinced, until the woman's heart leapt as she caught sight of something on the girl's arm. "Sydney," she gasped, and for a beat I thought the worst – that there was a cut and at any moment I was about to be bombarded with the irresistible scent of human blood, but the scent never came. "How long have you had this?" the teacher continued, peering down at her arm in concern.

"Uh...I don't know," the student murmured, staring down at what I assumed was some kind of rash in abject horror.

"Ms Martin, do I need to stop the test?" Mr Creepy up the front said, and I startled at the name. That was Lydia's mom? I supposed that made sense.

"No!" Ms Martin said, her pulse racing and her skin beginning to reek of nervous anxiety, a different kind to the one already filling the room. "It's fine," she insisted unconvincingly, helping Sydney back into her seat.

Something was seriously, catastrophically wrong.

She clicked her way back up to the front, and I watched her move, listening to the pumping of her heart, but for once not attracted to it, instead concerned by it.

What was wrong? Was something happening? Was the pack safe? Was _Stiles _safe?

"Everybody stay in your seats, I'll be...um, back in a minute," she stammered unconvincingly, reaching down to pluck her cell phone from where it sat on the desk. "Nobody leaves the room," she muttered to the moderator of the test, her voice flat and serious. She gave the classroom a long glance, like she feared for our safety in the time she would be gone, and if I had a pulse, it would have been racing.

"Jules?" Scott muttered lowly from where he sat closer to the front, looking back at me seriously, knowing me, and possibly Malia, were the only ones who would hear.

"I don't know," I responded just as quietly, staring at the doorway Ms Martin had disappeared through, listening to her fading footsteps as she headed away from the room.

"Jules? Scott?" Stiles was muttering too, but all I could do was shake my head, telling him that, for all of our particular talents, we knew nothing.

There was silence, then the moderator up front clicked his stopwatch and said. "We'll take a break," much to everybody's relief. The feeling didn't last long, as all of a sudden there was a shouting from out in the hall that even the humans could hear.

"No! Do not come in here!_ Go back outside_!" Ms Martin was yelling, and deciding that, rules be damned, I shot out of my seat, making it to the door as quickly as I could and pushing my way out into the hall. There was a buzz of noise from behind me, as the rest of the class did the same. The woman looked frazzled, and her heart was racing as I watched her click the lock on the front doors, sealing everyone out, and all of us, in. "Back to your seats," she said with as much calm as she was able to muster. "Now. _Please_."

Displeased and not willing to go without answers, I charged forwards. "What-" I began loudly, but an arm caught me around the waist, tugging me to a stop. The grip was weak, obviously human, and I knew from the way my bare midriff tingled that Stiles was on the other end.

"Come on," he murmured in my ear, and I swallowed, catching the woman's eyes. She pleaded with me to turn and go, and, if only to keep the peace, I complied.

I allowed Stiles to tug me back into the room, and Scott shut the door behind us. "What the hell is going on?" Stiles asked us, and as I heard the sound of a phone dialling from outside the room, I reached out and pressed a single finger to the human's lips, sealing them shut.

"_I need the number of the CDC...yes, the Centre for Disease Control_," the teacher outside was saying, and my eyes grew wide. I spun around to look at Scott, who was staring back, just as shocked.

"What?" Stiles demanded, knowing both of us well enough to know that we knew something.

There werewolf and I exchanged glanced, silently trying to decide who should deliver the news. In the end, it was Scott who took the bullet – as they say.

"She's calling the CDC," the alpha told Stiles, whose heart leapt in fear. "We're going into quarantine."

* * *

**A/N: So, I'm deep in the workings of a new fic, but I'm still curious about what you guys wanna see, so please, head to my profile and take my poll! Something new is on it's way, but I'm still fully dedicated to this story – it's my "baby".**

**I love you all, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! xx**


	73. I'm So Sick

_Let me live without this_

_Empty bliss, selfishness_

_I'm so sick_

_I'm so sick_

_Hear it, I'm screaming it_

_You're heeding to it now_

_Hear it, I'm screaming it_

_You tremble at this sound_

I'm So Sick – Flyleaf

* * *

It all happened fairly quickly after that, or, I assumed it did; I didn't really have any experience with outbreaks of viruses or encounters with the Centre for Disease Control. It didn't come up much in a vampire's day-to-day life, as you'd probably imagine.

The CDC were already on their way, in town by the one hour mark after the outbreak was called in by a terrified Ms Martin.

"Do you think it's bad?" Stiles asked me, voice hopeful, like my answer would be 'oh, it's fine, and we'll be out of here and home by dinner'.

It wasn't.

"I think, if the CDC are on their way, it's _bad_."

Thankfully, I wasn't the one to say it, instead it was Malia, who had a grumpy frown sitting on her face, arms crossed as she glared at anyone who came close. "They'll let us take the test again," Kira assured her quietly, but Malia gave no indication she was listening, and the kitsune looked vaguely disheartened.

"We're missing the biggest, most glaringly obvious issue here, people," I muttered, sounding as bitter as I felt.

"What's that?" Scott asked, sounding tired, like this whole thing rested solely on his broad shoulders.

"Doctors are coming," I said slowly, feeling like I may as well have been talking to a bunch of toddlers. "Doctor's with their blood tests, and their stethoscopes." There was silence as the others processed this information. "How long do you think it'll take them to spot your animal DNA?" I asked Scott and Malia, who both frowned. "Or, worse still-"

"That you have no pulse," Stiles finished for me, a look of horror falling over his features for the first time since this whole debacle began.

"I can't imagine they're going to be letting any of us walk out of here once they spot these little symptoms," I said, my voice a snarl.

"Can't you just compel them?" Kira asked hopefully, her heart slamming against her ribcage in terribly masked fear.

"I can't compel a whole _legion_ of CDC officers!" I hissed at her furiously, and she shifted away from me warily. Realising the reaction may have been a tad harsh, and perhaps unnecessary, I sighed deeply through my mouth, exhaling noisily in an attempt to calm myself. "Sorry," I apologised once I once again had control of my actions.

Kira shot me a shaky smile, and I realised that, whatever this was, as a vampire, I had no chance of contracting it. I couldn't get sick, so it wouldn't affect me. Unless by some small chance this virus was of supernatural origin, and therefore targeted the supernatural specifically, I highly doubted it would matter.

I mean, what were the odds of _that_, right?

A hand pressed to the small of my back, and I knew it was Stiles from the way my body reacted to his touch, my skin beginning to tingle where we were connected, my lower back exposed by the midriff top I'd stupidly put on that morning.

I tried not to sigh at the contact, but couldn't help but lean into his warmth. His heart leapt in his chest in that familiar way that it seemed to only do for me.

"We're going to be okay, you guys," Scott assured us, ever the optimist.

"Really now?" I sneered doubtfully, hands balled into irritated fists.

"Now isn't the time to be sardonic, Jules," Malia said, and I turned to her with raised eyebrows.

"Sardonic?" I echoed, and she nodded, only to lose her confidence halfway through.

"Did I not use it right?" she questioned, looking self-conscious.

I smiled at her, my own irritations soothed by the chatter that had begun. "You really _did_ study for this test, didn't you?" I murmured, leaning further into Stiles' touch, addicted to the warmth he seemed to radiate.

"I had a lot of catching up to do," Malia muttered back with a hint of bitterness that made me smirk.

The front doors of the school banged open, and I perked my head up, along with Scott. Malia and Kira, who still weren't as in-tune with their senses as we were, both looked confused, though Stiles caught on quickly, as always.

"They're here?" he asked, and I nodded, casting the door a long glance until I saw yellow-covered heads bob along through the corridor.

We were all silent, each of us processing the gravity of the situation in our own way.

"I'm going to go see what's happening," Scott said, standing to his feet rather abruptly, turning to leave the room.

"I'll go with you!" I insisted immediately, hating the thought of sitting in this classroom doing absolutely nothing to help.

"No," Scott said calmly, shaking his head. "You've got to stay here with them."

"What? They're fine," I replied confusedly.

"But they might not stay fine," he told me seriously, keeping his voice low.

He was right, and I cast a glance back at them, feeling my stomach almost drop out from under me. None of them could die. Not today. I wouldn't survive it.

"I'll watch them," I swore, and Scott nodded, exchanging a longing look with Kira before he turned and left the room. The creepy teacher's eyes followed him as he left, but he saw me watched and quickly focused his attention back on the stack of papers in front of him.

I turned back to the others, moving over and taking a seat in the empty chair. We were quiet, pensive as we listened to everything happening around us.

"They think it's smallpox," Stiles murmured to Kira, Malia and I, perched up on top of a desk, his hands twisted together in front of him. I groaned aloud, dropping my head from where I was reclined in the chair of the desk Stiles was on, my knees bent as my feet were propped up on the lip of the wooden desk.

"Not likely," the test moderator said from the front of the room before I could make a comment about the 60s, and how much of a bitch the virus had been back then. Humans tasted awful with smallpox. "Smallpox was eradicated worldwide in 1979." The others paused, and Malia shot me a look with raised eyebrows, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn't wrong. "We've only managed to completely eradicate two viruses in history – the other was rinderpest...it killed cows."

There was a pregnant pause.

"So we should be comforted by that, right?" Stiles asked, twisted away from me to look at the teacher, though I could imagine the smirk sitting on his face.

"This is something worse," the man responded darkly.

"Okay Mr _Dramatist_," I muttered, rocking onto the back two legs of my chair, looking up at the ceiling and smiling internally as I listened to Stiles chuckle.

"Whatever it is, they're taking it pretty seriously," Malia murmured to us, glancing out the far windows with thoughtful eyes. "There's a lot of cars and trucks out there," she said, though this I already knew. "Your dad's with them," she added, looking at Stiles closely.

The human's heart leapt, and he clamoured off the desk, stumbling over to the box of cell phones that sat on the edge of the teacher's desk. "Alright, I should probably call him," he said to himself, beginning to sift through the bags of phones.

"Don't bother," the moderator drawled, and I looked over at him with raised eyebrows. "They would have shut off any access to all outside communication by now. No cell service, no wifi, no starting a panic. Looks like we're all just going to have to wait here and see what happens..." he licked his finger, turning his attention back to the pages of the book he was perusing.

"Fucking creepy," I muttered to Malia.

"And coming from you, that's saying something," she murmured back, shooting the guy a narrow-eyed stare. Unable to help it, my lips twitched upwards.

There was a pause before Stiles came back to perch in his vacated spot. After a moment he began talking, muttering to the girls in undertones, but suddenly I couldn't hear. It was like everything was underwater. My vision unfocused and refocused, like the lens of a camera, and I caught my breath as the changes made me feel dizzy.

"_Jules_."

I spun around in my chair, glancing out the empty hallway.

"_Juliet!_"

It said again, and I knew it was Scott, I'd know his voice anywhere. I climbed to my feet, pushing the chair back and stepping towards the door. Stiles' hand caught my wrist, and I pulled myself together long enough to shoot him a smile.

"I'll be right back," I assured him, but he didn't seem calmed by the vague excuse. "Trust me," I said, meeting his eyes but stopping myself from smiling. I could feel my gums tingling, which was never a good sign.

He didn't look convinced, but I ripped my arm from his grip and strode towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" the moderator asked in a slimy tone.

"Bathroom," I snapped back, giving him no time to argue before I slipped out into the hallway and disappeared from view. Scott's voice was coming from the boy's locker room, and I began to run once I was sure nobody was watching.

But my legs suddenly felt like weights, each step heavier and heavier, until I found I couldn't run, stopping against the lockers to catch my breath, which was abruptly not such an easy task.

"What the fuck is happening to me?" I asked aloud, receiving nothing but silence from the empty hall. Pulling myself together once more, I began to walk back towards where Scott was still muttering my name, over and over, like a chant.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I burst into the locker room. "Scott?" I asked, getting a pained grunt in reply.

Two rows of lockers over, Scott was collapsed between them.

"Scott!" I exclaimed, gladly dropping to my knees, my entire body beginning to ache. The wolf looked up, and I spotted the massive fangs jutting from his mouth and the glowing ruby of his eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked, reaching out a pressing a hand to his forehead, his skin sticky with sweat.

"Was hoping you could tell me," he groaned, leaning his weight against the bay of lockers and panting. "But it's happening to you, too," he said with a pained sigh. Gasping quietly, I lifted a hand to my cheeks, my fingertips brushing the inky veins crawling over my smooth skin like deadly the black vines of a poisonous rose bush.

I still felt unwell, but I reached out to grasp Scott once more. "You need to calm down," I said softly, rubbing my thumbs against his shoulders in a way I imagined would in some way hopefully be soothing. "If someone sees you like this..." I trailed off, because finishing the statement wasn't necessary.

"What are we going to do?" Scott seemed scared, more scared than I could remember seeing him, and I sighed, pressing my forehead to his affectionately.

"We're going to be okay, little wolf," I promised him gently, even though such promises weren't mine to make. He panted, his claws, which were fully protruded from his fingertips, scratched unforgivingly at the floor.

The door opened from across the room, and I pulled away from my friend, holding a finger to my lips clearly, and he held his breath so the newcomer wouldn't overhear his pained panting.

"Scott?!" it was Mr Yukimura, Kira's dad, the human in the know.

"Over here," I called to the history teacher. I wasn't feeling great, not by any definition of the word, but my priority was Scott. I'd be fine, I probably just needed a good run and some fresh blood. The thought made my throat burn with thirst, but I swallowed it down, gritting my teeth to try and stop my fangs from appearing.

"Scott?" Mr Yukimura asked, stepping into view, shocked by what he was seeing. "Juliet?" he sounded so confused. I understood, wasn't often you saw a two-hundred year old vampire curled on the floor next to an alpha werewolf, running a hand against his back in soothing comfort.

"Get Stiles," Scott growled at the teacher, who hesitated only a beat before deciding that listening to the wolf was in his best interests. He scurried from the room, on a mission to find the pack.

"Is that such a good idea?" I asked lowly, watching as his eyes glowed again.

"Afraid I'll hurt him?"

"Afraid _I _will," I muttered bitterly, pulling away from Scott as what I could only describe as nausea filled me. I ducked away, pressing myself against the lockers and tucking my head between my legs like humans told other humans to do when they felt ill.

"You'd never...you'd never hurt Stiles," Scott murmured to me as firmly as he could.

"Sh," I shushed him, not in the mood for one of his speeches on redemption. "Just focus on the shift," I instructed him from where I was curled, and he broke off with a huff, groaning with pain from whatever was happening to us.

It was silent for one long, blissful minute, then the sound of feet slapping against the linoleum floor met my ears, and the door burst open, the room flooding with a mixture of scents that only made me feel sicker.

"Jules?! Scott?!" Stiles tripped into sight, all but collapsing in his haste to get down to our level.

"Stay back!" Mr Yukimura barked in an uncharacteristic outburst, and I looked up sharply, giving them all a great look at my bloody eyes and protruding, deadly fangs.

"It's fine," Stiles snapped back at the teacher, but I shook my head at him. I remained blessedly calm, reaching out a hand to nudge him away from us.

"Stay back," I echoed the teacher, relaxed but firm and I pushed him away. He climbed back to his feet just as Kira and Malia came into view, having followed at a much slower pace.

"What's happening?" Stiles asked, his voice anxious.

"Good question," I murmured, resting my head against my knees, staring up at them, unable to make the red of my vampire eyes recede.

"Scott, can you focus on staying human?" Mr Yukimura asked, looking down at the wolf who was still crouched, skin caked with tangy sweat that made my nose crinkle in disgust. I couldn't sweat, thank God, it just wasn't something vampires could do. Something about the levels of water in our bodies or something.

"I'm trying," Scott insisted, head tipped up, eyes fading from red to brown and back again.

"It's still happening," Kira's dad sighed, sounding defeated already, which irritated me.

Scott exhaled, swallowing thickly as he glanced over at me. Shutting my eyes, I focused on forcing my vampiric features from my face. When I opened them again, the blood and veins were gone, but my fangs remained poking out from between my lips. "Best I can do," I said around the fangs, and with a sigh the wolf turned to the coyote.

"I can't make them go back," Malia admitted with a huff, holding up both hands, revealing a full set of gruesome, glinting claws.

Mr Yukimura sighed, like a doctor might before delivering bad news. "Obviously the virus is affecting the three of you in a way it won't hit any human being," he told us slowly, a weary look on his face.

"You guys have to stay out of sight," Stiles said instantly, looking between the three of us carefully. "We have to quarantine you...from the quarantine."

There was a paused, then Kira spoke up, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah, but where?" she asked, posing an interesting question. "I mean what if they get violent, like on a full moon?"

"We shouldn't stay in here," Scott said immediately. "Not in a locker room."

"A classroom is not gonna hold us," Malia interjected with a shake of her head.

"Neither is any storage closet," I added, running my hands down my face and ignoring the way my body was screaming with the need to feed.

"What about the basement?" Kira suggested quickly.

"Too many ways out," Scott said. "We need somewhere secure, somewhere nobody could find us."

There was a lengthy pause as we all considered this. I couldn't think of anywhere, at least, nowhere in the school, but then Stiles spoke up; always the one to figure it out. "The vault," he said stonily, and we all looked up at him in surprise. "The Hale vault."

"The Hale's always have an escape route, like their house," Scott agreed. "There has to be another way in."

I could only hope, for the safety of everyone, that he was right.

* * *

"Okay, this is where the school sign is, so the vault's gotta be right about here," Stiles was saying, leaning over the blueprints of the school that he'd found in the office, but I was having trouble concentrating, everything flowing and ebbing in and out of focus. I swallowed around the dryness of my throat, closing my eyes as the lights above began to give me a headache.

"If there was a second entrance, it would probably be accessible from the basement," Mr Yukimura said, his voice like an annoying buzzing in the back of my head, making me want to lash out. I bit back against the urge, focusing on breathing in and out through my mouth, hoping it would calm me some.

"It's probably somewhere in this hallway," my human was saying. "This corridor..." he leaned over, and I opened my eyes just as he collapsed into the teacher.

"Stiles," I gasped, materialising at his side, holding him up but finding him to almost be too heavy for me to sustain.

"Whoa," he breathed, blinking open his eyes and swallowing loudly, before looking down at his wrist, which I now saw was covered in the horrid welts and rash that had plagued the other humans.

"It's happening to you too," Mr Yukimura murmured gravely, and I clutched at Stiles tighter. He could now hold himself up, but I wasn't about to let go for anything. "You're getting sick," he said. "You all are."

He began to speak with his daughter, but I was more focused on Stiles. "Are you okay?" I asked him gently, reaching up to press and hand to his head. His skin was hotter than usual, and very clammy, but my mind was everywhere at once, and I was struggling to figure out what to do to help him.

Was there anything I _could _do?

"I'm alright," he assured me in an undertone. "Are you?" He reached out a hand, covering mind with his own. I was drawn closer by his warmth and smell. I leant in closer, inhaling deeply, only to rip myself away when my eyes filled with blood against my will.

"We've got to get away from the humans," I snapped to the group, struggling to get the words out around my mouthful of fangs. "_Now_," I hissed, and the history teacher gulped, nodding for us to head in the direction of the basement. I left first, shoving my way out into the brightly lit corridor. I grunted against the light, lifting a hand to cover my eyes, which had begun to sting.

"This way," Stiles said quickly, jogging in the direction of the stairs leading to the basement. I followed, my movements feeling sluggish and heavy, but I soldiered on, knowing I needed to get out of sight before somebody got a look at my face and ran through the town-centre screaming 'vampire'.

The stairs were particularly difficult to tackle, but I kept a tight grip on the railing, forcing myself to get to the bottom, deciding to stop breathing altogether when the burn of thirst in my throat got too much to handle.

We filed into the corridor next to the basement, and I came up in the rear, trying not to stagger like a drunken idiot. Everything was so bright, my head felt like it was going to explode.

"Hey, guys," it felt like only seconds later, though it was actually more like minutes, Stiles was speaking, drawing out attention to a wall on the far end of the hall, "over here." The boys pushed the weak shelving out of the way, revealing a wall with a giant triskelion etched into it's surface. "Look at the cracks on the wall," Stiles said quickly. "It's like the entrance outside, it only opens with claws." There was a long, pregnant pause as I realised there was no way we were going to get in. The only person who could open it was a Hale, and we were fresh out of those.

I cussed under my breath, lifting a hand to my pounding head.

"_Anyone's_ claws, right?" Stiles continued hurriedly, and I looked up in confusion. I opened my mouth to argue, but as though sensing my coming words, Stiles turned and fixed me with a pointed glare that instantly shut me up. I felt too sick to talk, anyhow.

"Malia, can you try?" Scott asked abruptly, and the were-coyote looked bewildered.

"Why me?" she asked cynically.

"I don't have control," the alpha murmured back, and because I felt woozy in the head, I desperately wanted to call 'bullshit', but a look from Stile stopped me again. Confused, I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

"Okay, I'll do it," she agreed after a long, tense pause. "But first tell me what you've been hiding from me."

This time, the pause was longer, and far more awkward. Keeping from her? What did she mean? We weren't keeping anything from her. Not that _I _knew of, anyway.

"I know you think you're trying to protect me," the coyote said blithely. "But I can handle it."

The boys looked properly chastised, and their hearts were racing in their chests. Beyond confused, I stared at them, trying to work out what the fuck was happening. They didn't make eye contact, with either of us, and I scowled, feeling too sick to be in the mood to deal with shit like this.

"I _know _I'm on the list!" Malia finally blurted, exasperated with having to say it herself.

Another pause, this one different, filled with...relief? With a gasp, I realised exactly what was happening, my stupid, virus-addled brain struggling to put it together. I'd seen Malia's name on the list only the day before.

Malia _Hale_.

_That's_ what was happening. And _that's _what was being kept from her. But _why_?

"Yes," Stiles murmured seriously, his pulse continued to race. It was obvious, now, that he was lying, and doing a very poor job of it too.

"So how much?" Malia asked simply, completely oblivious.

"How much what?"

"How much am I worth?" she bit back impatiently.

"Four million," Scott replied evenly.

Malia turned her gaze down, expression pensive. "Are you okay?" Stiles shifted forwards, a wary, sympathetic look on his face.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed without care. "Scott's worth twenty-five, Jules twenty and Kira six," she said callously. "They'll take you guys out way before me."

She brushed past them, slipping up beside the door and shoving her claws into the slot. "Progress," Stiles muttered, turning to glance at me, catching the lethal scowl overtaking my features. He winced, and I knew that _he_ knew that _I _knew about Malia.

_We're talking about this_, I said unmistakeably with my eyes, and he gave a reluctant grimace, knowing exactly what was going through my head.

From ahead of us the vault door creaked open, sliding apart with the grinding sound of stone-on-stone, revealing the large, spacious Hale vault in all it's dusty glory. The others stepped inside, and I started walking too, only to run smack-bang into that fucking invisible barrier that I'd grown so acquainted with.

I cussed, and the others turned from inside to look out at me.

"Malia, you wanna invite me inside?" I asked in nothing more than a grunt, my throat aching to be wet with hot, fresh blood.

"Me?" the were-coyote sounded bewildered. She was a Hale, as I now knew, and as such, the only person in the room able to grant me access.

"You – uh, you opened the door!" Stiles interjected before she could put two and two together. "So you need to invite her in."

Malia looked wary. "That's how it works?" she asked confusedly.

"Apparently," I grit out darkly, and Stiles winced again as Malia spoke.

"Come in, Juliet," she said with a nod, and relieved, I slipped inside the dark, dank room just as the door began to slide shut once more, sealing all of us inside it's large, stone walls.

"What now?" Kira asked, nervously running her sweaty palms down the material of her pants.

"Now we wait," Scott sighed.

Malia was the first to feel weak, and she curled up in a ball on the ground, her head resting in Stiles' lap. Although this made me uncomfortable, I couldn't begrudge her the gift of the comfort that I knew Stiles alone could provide. I sat down next to him, pulling the sick were-coyote's feet onto my lap and gently patting at her hot legs with my cold hands, hoping that it would, in some small way, help.

"You know, this is where it all started," Stiles murmured, breaking the thick, heavy silence that had fallen over all of us, each feeling sicker by the minute. "That's where the money was," he said, pointing to a small safe that sat in the corner, rusted and cracked open. "117 million in bearer bonds."

"How do you even change bearer bonds into cash?" Kira questioned curiously, turning away and idly beginning to lift the jars lining shelving on the walls, peeking inside each and giving a cringe when she didn't like was she saw.

"The bank, I guess," Stiles murmured, casting me a look to elaborate. I shook my head, knowing I had to breathe to speak, and that wasn't a very good idea right now, not with Stiles' scent marinating in the confined room like ribs in an oven. "They just let it sit here the whole time, collecting dust," the human added, and I closed my eyes, tipping my head back and patting Malia's leg in an even rhythm, listening as her heart rate slowed. "You know bearer bonds are basically extinct?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You know how many problems that money could solve?" Stiles asked, heart stuttering in his chest. I looked over at him, curious about the longing in his voice. What did he need money for? What problems did he mean?

"For you?" Kira questioned curiously.

"Me, my dad," he answered, and I noticed with a start that he was avoiding looking at me, keeping his eyes firmly on Scott and Kira, who sat across from us on some overturned boxes. "The Eichen House, and the MRI bills are crushing him."

I didn't know that. I hadn't even _considered _that, which only reaffirmed the fact that I was a terrible excuse for a person. Stiles was struggling, apparently just barely keeping his head above water, and I'd been so concerned with myself and my own problems that I hadn't stopped to notice him grappling for air.

He still wouldn't look at me, but I took the opportunity to stare at him, watching the emotions of defeat and helplessness wage war across his face.

"Mom does this thing," Scott spoke up, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from Stiles. "She writes down all the items in our budget and how much they cost, and then she adds it all up and figures out how long we have...until we lose the house."

Deciding I couldn't look at any of them, I turned back to face the wall and closed my eyes tight. I'd been selfish, forgetting these kids had real world problems too, instead of just supernatural ones. Sometimes it was easy to forget that every action had a reaction, and that every choice had a consequence.

I took in a deep breath, forcing myself not to take note of the delicious scents in the air. I was hungry enough that even the wolves' were starting to smell appetising.

"You okay, Jules?" Stiles asked, having heard my heavy breaths. I turned to look at him, eyes glinting bloody red in the low lighting of the vault.

"I'm managing," I told him. From his lap, Malia groaned, pushing herself upright with a pained grunt. "You alright there, coyote?" I asked her, reaching out a hand so it hovered over her shoulder. She radiated heat, the fever running through her body was stifling.

"Hm," she groaned vaguely, using a hand to fan herself as she rocked back so she was leant up against the box behind us, eyes drooping shut.

"Jules," Scott said quickly, standing to his feet as Kira wandered over to us, crouching down near Malia and watching her closely. She nodded to me, a silent promise that she would look after her, and I was relieved as I climbed to my feet, shuffling over to where Scott stood by the large stone door. "You hear that?" he asked me, and I cocked my head, focusing in on the faint sounds coming from the floor above us.

I nodded, meeting his eyes as I listened to them call our names, trepidation filling my gut. There was a hushed conversation from behind us, before Stiles was padding over, looking even more pale than usual.

"What's going on?" Stiles whispered, coming to a stop beside me.

"They're looking for us," Scott revealed, glancing up at the ceiling with concern. He looked between the two of us wearily. "Someone's gonna have to go out there."

It couldn't be Scott or Malia, there was every chance they'd go rabid. It couldn't be me, for similar reasons. That left Stiles and Kira, and if we were taking a vote, I was gonna go with the kitsune. She was the one least likely to kill someone on her way out. Stiles also stood a chance, but like hell was I letting him out of my sight.

The boys turned to look at where Kira and Malia now sat, both clammy and weary. I glanced too, my brow furrowing deeply as I took in the quick thudding of Malia's racing pulse.

"We need to tell her the truth about Peter," Scott said suddenly, his voice a whisper that I was sure the were-coyote wasn't going to be able to hear in her condition. "She's gonna see the rest of the dead pool eventually," he murmured when Stiles shot him a reluctant look.

I tipped my head back against the cool stone of the entrance, the bump sending a jolt through my bloodlust addled brain.

From the far right, a cockroach scurried up the wall, the sound of it's little legs moving like beats on a drum. Scott's breathing was low and steady, but to me it could have been the terrifying winds of a monsoon. Stiles' human heart pumped in his chest, each thump like a gunshot to my ears.

"Try to remember that Peter's the one name missing on that list," Stiles was saying, a point I had yet to take note of. I wanted to consider this, think on it more, but the way my skin seemed to burn made it difficult to concentrate. "Which either makes him incredibly lucky, or the Benefactor." There was a lengthy pause, and I subtly shifted away from the boys as I felt my gums ache, my fangs aching to be revealed._"_She finds out about him, she's gonna go to him, you _know _she is. And then he's going to twist his way into her head like he does with everyone – including us."

He kept talking, but his voice had become nothing but a hum that wouldn't go away. My stomach ached, raw and pulsing with the need for the only thing that would ever truly satiate me.

"Jules?"

The call of my name from Stiles' lips broke through the haze of incessant buzzing around me. I tilted my head in reaction but kept myself angled away, staring at the far wall with eyes that just wouldn't focus. I could see the tiny indents in the concrete slab, see each particle of dust like they were some kind of grotesque snowflakes.

"Jules?" This time the call came from Scott, but I didn't move. I felt like turning at this point would only make me throw up what little blood I had left in my system.

"Something's wrong," I could hear Stiles muttering, and I grit my teeth together as my ears once more tuned into the wet thudding on his heart. "Juliet?!"

A hand dropped onto my shoulder and I spun around, a kind of animalistic snarl ripping from my mouth, unlike any I'd heard myself make before. Scott was standing before me, and he'd flinched back at the sound of the roar.

"Jules," Stiles said softly, and I blinked rapidly, desperately trying to make my eyes focus on him, though he was nothing more than a hazy shape in the shadows. A hand reached out, and I knew it was human from the pulse that beat beneath the skin, but I forced my jaws to seal tightly, keeping them safely shut even if my lips did peel back so my deadly fangs were on proud display. "What's happening to you?" Stiles whispered, the outstretched digits brushing my face.

I realised with a start that my cheeks were wet, and I pulled away, narrowing my eyes as I peered down at his fingers with difficulty. Staining his fingertips weren't tears, or even blood, instead it was a thick, black substance that made my stomach crawl.

"Sit down," Scott instructed me, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my mouth, collapsing to the ground without hesitation.

"Chains," I murmured to the werewolf, not knowing how many minutes of clarity I had left.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Chain me," I ordered in a bark. "_Now_."

"Jules, I can't-"

"If you don't, somebody will die," I responded without hesitation. It made me feel worse, admitting as much, but I had to be honest.

There was a weighty silence, and I could feel my pupils begin expanding and retracting uncontrollably. I was completely losing control of myself; if this wasn't dealt with soon, I wouldn't be _me _anymore.

The demon would take charge.

"There aren't any chains," Kira was muttering, and I wasn't sure how much time had passed, though it had obviously been enough to search the room for restraints.

I blinked intently, my eyes continuing to leak black fluid, the stench of it rotten, like I had a cancer growing within me that was slowly seeping out.

The human in the room crouched down in front of me where I was pressed up against the wall. "Jules," Stiles' voice was soft and concerned, but I couldn't focus my eyes on him to see his expression. The room spun, and I began to scratch at the floor, like I might be able to anchor myself in one place and stop the spinning.

"What's happening?" I asked, my voice surprisingly clear, like I was perfectly healthy and didn't feel like I was about to keel over and die.

"We think it's an attack from the assassins," Stiles revealed quietly, and I nodded, cringing when it only made me more nauseas. "We don't have any chains, so we can't tie you up."

"No," I gasped, hands leaving the concrete floor to grasp onto the lapels of his shirt, clutching at them like a lifeline. "That's bad," I hissed in a whisper, tugging him closer. "I don't want to hurt anybody, Stiles," I told him emphatically. "Not again. _Never_ again."

"I know, love," he murmured, and warm skin pressed to my hands, covering them with his own. "You've just gotta hold on."

"Until what?" I asked, a hint of bitterness in my tone that I cared little to disguise. "Until we die down here, each of us, from this fucking supernatural disease?"

Stiles let out a huff that wasn't quite a laugh, reaching a hand up to my hair, stroking down the long inky strands until his hand gripped at my arm. "We have a plan," he admitted. "But it involves me leaving."

"No," I hissed immediately, clutching tighter at his lapels, enough that I heard the material begin to rip ever so slightly. "Out of the question."

"Jules, it's the only way," he said. "I'll be right back."

"I'd rather die together than apart," I murmured sullenly, and again, he let out a laugh that sounded painfully fond, and though I couldn't yet see anything, I knew he was smiling at me in a way that made even my frozen heart leap.

"When did you become such a pessimist?"

"Roughly 1942," I answered with a surprising amount of wit.

Stiles chuckled again, and once more I felt his hand stroke down the length of my hair. "Nobody's going to die," he assured me. "But only if I go, and now."

More wetness spilled out over my cheeks, which I found odd, because I didn't feel like I was crying. "For the record, I'm against it," I told him reluctantly. He let out a huff, then reached to where I still held him by his lapels, gently prying my hands from the material.

In a move almost too tender for me to comprehend, he brought my hands to his face, pressing his lips lightly against my unnaturally cool and clammy skin. I closed my eyes and leant back against the wall.

"Check on Malia," I ordered him drowsily, breathing stubbornly through my mouth in an effort to not be tempted by the scents swimming through the air.

"Already have, she's fine," Stiles assured me.

"And Kira?" I pressed anxiously, keeping my eyes shut tight, knowing the chances of my being able to make anything out were low anyhow. "She's okay, right?"

"Kira's fine," Stiles voice sounded further away, though it was still comfortingly clear. "Scott too."

"Scott can take care of himself," I muttered, curling in on myself as the acid in my stomach seemed to burn. There was one final, adoring chuckle, then the sound of stone against stone as the heavy door rumbled shut, and we were once again left in darkness.

It seemed like an eternity, as it always did when I was faced with unbearable hunger. My insides screamed at me, intestines rubbing together like sandpaper. I swallowed around an impossibly dry throat, lifting a hand to my neck and scratching, like I might be able to reach inside and rub it better.

"I can't see," someone was suddenly saying, and I felt dread pool in my burning gut like lead. My only hope was that Stiles had gotten out, gotten to safety and acquired the cure.

More voices, more noises that I couldn't place. I felt like I was mummifying, my body drying even as I hacked up mouthful after mouthful of that thick, disgusting substance that told me my body was dying. I wondered if a virus could kill me permanently. I didn't think it could, I was pretty sure I was just going to go into hibernation, my body drying; for all intents and purposes, dead, until somebody came with the kiss of true love – or, more accurately, _blood_ – to wake me up again. I supposed that was an alright fate, I just wished it didn't hurt _so damn much._

A shattering sound, like glass had broken, then an odd scent carried on the dusty air of the vault, like something wild and tangy. I breathed it in, tasting it on my tongue.

My insides warmed again, but this time not so much from pain as it was pleasure. Instead of a hot poker, it was like warm coals, and I felt the sensation spread throughout my entire body, running along every nerve ending, until my skin was buzzing pleasantly with energy.

Slowly but surely, the unfocused shadows in my vision began to fade, and my lungs didn't scream in protest every time I took a breath. I shuddered, shakily sitting upright and lifting my hands, more than shocked to find them not shaking.

The feeling like I was underwater began to recede, the sounds ceasing to be muted and hard to process. Instead everything was crystal clear, a million times better than mere moments ago, and I blinked, feeling wetness at my cheeks. Reaching up, I ran the backs of my hands under my eyes, wiping at the thick, congealed substance that had accumulated there like some kind of rotting blood.

I spun around, catching sight of Kira slowly but surely pulling herself upright, and Malia groaning as she pressed a hand to her head. The door was rumbling open again, and I slowly stood to my feet. The world tipped like I was on a cheap carnival ride, but I pressed a hand against the wall and stopped moving, waiting for the nausea to pass.

I needed blood, and I needed it now.

All thoughts of feeding fled my mind, however, when hurried footsteps slammed against the concrete, heading unwaveringly in my direction. I turned slowly so as to not upset my still spinning head, in time to see Stiles come to an abrupt stop just inches from me.

"Are you okay?" I asked without letting him speak, catching the scent of blood and staring at him with wide, concerned eyes, taking in the blood splatters coating his face and shirt.

"I'm fine," he murmured impatiently, clearly the last thing he wanted was to talk about himself. He reached out thoughtlessly, hands coming up to cup delicately at my face. The movement was tender, and I felt my still heart give a mutinous squeeze inside my chest. "Please tell me that you're alright," he begged, swallowing hard as his eyes stared into mine, brown meeting green in a motion that was so achingly familiar. Gently, his thumbs brushed at the apples of my cheeks, no doubt swiping at some of the leakage I'd missed.

"I'm alright," I murmured to him, reaching up myself, the cold skin of my hands pressing against his own, brilliantly warm skin. I leaned into his touch, trying not to make the way I nuzzled at his hands too obvious. His heart stuttered wetly in his chest. "I am starving, though," I joked with a forced laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm before gently pulling his hands away.

He seemed to understand what I was doing: putting distance between us so I wouldn't be as tortured by his scent or the pulse of his blood under his skin.

A shadow passed over us, and I turned to see Malia stalking from the room, in some sort of daze.

"Malia?" I called warily, listening to the way her heart was slamming against her ribs. She reeked of devastation. "Malia!" I yelled, stepping around a confused Stiles and reaching out, pressing a hand to the were-coyote's shoulder.

She spun around with a hiss, shoving my hand from her shoulder, a furious snarl in place on her pretty face. Frowning, I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong. Was she still feeling sick? Had the cure not worked for her?

She turned, stalking from the room, hands balled into fists.

"Jules," Stiles said from behind me, and though I was still concerned, I looked back at him. He was holding a slip of paper in his hand, a look of dismay pasted across his features. Taking three large steps forwards, he handed me the paper, and wary, I peeked down at it, noticing with perturbation that it was the final third of the dead pool.

There, in simple black lettering, read the one thing we'd all been keeping from the were-coyote. One look at the paper, and she'd known everything.

_Malia Hale_.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! Another chapter for you all – and I have news!**

**I've decided that I'm not going to be writing season 6 into this story, and at this point, I'm not sure I'll be doing season 5 either. Instead, I'll be writing an entirely original season, based mostly on Stiles, Jules, and the pros and cons of vampirism...that's all I'll say on it for now! ;)**

**Please let me know if you desperately want season 5, and if there's enough outcry, I'll do it, but season 6 is definitely completely out. **

**I'm working intensely on my new story, which I'm excited to announce is going to be a Fred Weasley/OC. It will span every year at Hogwarts and beyond, but my biggest question is, is that something you'd like to be rated M or not? Should I keep things G-rated, or take things to a darker, more realistic level? A lot of it's already written, but I'm still working tirelessly and editing constantly, so please let me know your thoughts!**

**I love you all! xoxo**


	74. I Need A Doctor

_I'm about to lose my mind_

_You've been gone for so long, I'm runnin' outta time_

_I need a doctor, call me a doctor_

_I need a doctor, doctor to bring me back to life_

I Need a Doctor – Dr. Dre (feat. Eminem &amp; Skylar Grey)

* * *

"You're making a habit out of this."

I smiled, my eyes glued to Stiles' back as he stood by his desk, fingering through a stack of file. I was sat on his windowsill, and, although I'd been perfectly silent, he was no doubt getting used to my sudden, silent appearances.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," I murmured to him, my soft voice carrying in the otherwise silent room.

Stiles sighed, turning away from his task to look at me in the soft glow emanating from his bedside lamp. I cocked my head, leaning my weight against the wall as I watched him, assessing his pulse and breathing, as I always did, an action that had become natural to me, reassuring myself that he was okay.

"Are you upset about Malia?" I asked once the silence had stretched on long enough.

"Yeah," Stiles murmured, the sound tired, and I wondered whether he was getting enough sleep. "We should have told her," he said in that tone that made it clear he was beating himself up inside. "Keeping it from her was wrong...and now she hates us."

"It may have been the wrong call..." I trailed off.

"But?" he asked expectantly.

"I was finished talking," I mumbled through a frown, and he gave a derisive snort.

"You never _were_ great with the whole 'comfort' thing, were you?" he murmured with a hint of bitterness. He was lashing out, and that knowledge was just enough to keep me from reacting badly. I stared back at him impassively, patiently waiting for the haze of irritation to clear.

Finally, after a long few moments of frowns and clenched fists, Stiles scowl slackened into an an exhausted expression, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"Sorry," he apologised remorsefully, fatigued.

"It's fine," I promised him, and he looked up, meeting my eyes across the room.

"How do you feel?" he asked, and I got the feeling he was desperate for the distraction.

"Better now that I've fed," I replied, trying not to lick my lips at the thought of the three blood bags I'd downed before leaving home and making my way to him.

"O positive?" he questioned in polite interest.

"A," I corrected, and he hummed like it made any difference to him.

"So, you _don't_ feel like tearing out my throat?"

"No more than usual."

"I suppose that's better than nothing," he mused, and despite myself, I cracked a smile.

"And how are _you_?"

"No lingering effects," he shrugged. "It really did pass through my immune system quickly, like that _psychopath_ said it would."

"The CDC didn't wanna keep you longer, run more tests?" I pressed, concerned and thinking that maybe that would have been best.

"Nah," he said, lifting a shoulder in another lazy shrug. "I just got the hell out of there the second they weren't looking. I'm fine," he insisted at my wary look. "Promise," he swore, placing a hand over his thumping heart.

I knew the last thing he wanted was to keep talking about it, but I feared that if I didn't ask now, I might never get the chance. "So, Peter's daughter, huh?" I murmured, and Stiles sighed heavily, hanging his head in defeat as he padded over to his bed, his bare feet quiet on the soft carpet beneath him. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" I asked, watching as he collapsed into the sheets that smelled so strongly of him, head tipped downwards like he was too tired to hold it up. "I had to find out by reading the list and putting the pieces together. It would have been nice to get a heads up."

"Believe it or not, there were more important things going on," he said, but the words were grumbled rather than spat. "Sorry," he apologised again when I fell silent, running his hands down the length of his face. "I'm just exhausted."

"Tell me about it," I murmured back honestly, unable to wait until I got home and curled up underneath my soft but heavy comforter. I may have been fully fed, but I definitely needed rest. Even a vampire's body was prone to exhaustion when hit with a supernatural virus like the one that had, earlier, plagued the pack. "I'll leave you be," I said to Stiles abruptly, turning around and placing a hand on the half-open window. I needed sleep, and I could tell from the human's drooping eyelids that he did too.

"Stay."

I was halfway out the window when he said it, and I paused, one leg half lifted to climb out. I glanced back over my shoulder through a curtain of inky black hair. Stiles was standing now, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweats, a sheepish, but somehow at the same time, brave, expression spread across his adorable features.

"What?" I asked rather indelicately, eyebrows pulled together in a completely bewildered frown.

"I asked you to _stay_," he breathed, a look of hope gleaming in his intoxicating eyes.

I sucked in a breath, the air catching in my throat. "I'm not sure that's such a good-"

"Please," he pleaded softly. "_Please_, Jules."

I wanted to say no. I _needed_ to say no. That's what was best for both of us. We had carefully constructed walls now, ones I wasn't sure should ever be knocked down.

But he was staring at me with those wide, expressive, vulnerable eyes, his heart pounding so loudly that I could barely hear myself think. I swallowed against my suddenly dry throat. "Okay," I agreed, despite my every instinct screaming at me what a terrible idea this was, for _everybody_ involved.

Stiles sagged in tangible relief, and, turning back to the window to give myself a moment to compose myself, I slid the glass down to keep the chill out of his warm room.

The human pulled off his sweatshirt, throwing it over the back of his desk chair in a move that might have seemed casual had I not noticed the trembling of his hands. He padded back over to the bed, pulling back the sheets and climbing in. I hesitated, watching as he made himself comfortable, very obviously leaving a large space open beside him, then turning to face me.

The clouds were thick tonight, stopping the glow of the moon from reaching us. I reached out and flicked off the lamp, plunging us into darkness that only I could see through. Stiles stared at where he assumed I stood, while I held my breath, perfectly silent and for all the world invisible.

"Please, Jules," Stiles asked again, calm although his pulse raced, his voice breaking through the still of the blackened room.

Still not breathing, I toed off my boots, almost robotic as I moved. I tried not to think about what I was doing, or about what it meant for us. I just worked, peeling off my socks before tugging off the unnecessary jacket I'd thrown over my simple shirt. Opting to leave my jeans on, I steeled myself for the coming hours, wondering if I'd be getting any sleep, after all.

I climbed silently onto the bed, my light weight barely making the mattress dip, but Stiles' breath caught when he realised how close I was.

It was a chilly evening, I could tell from the way his exposed skin was covered in goosebumps, and I figured he didn't need my icy skin pressed against his own. Stiles liked to sleep in the middle of the bed, so I kept to the far left, allowing him all the room he needed, and purposefully keeping myself from touching him.

His heart thudded wetly from beside me, and he swallowed, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room. We were quiet for a long, long few minutes, and I paid close attention to Stiles' pulse, listening as it steadily began to calm, slowing to a more regular rhythm.

Slowly, I watched as his hands raised in the darkness, reaching out, and I knew instinctively what he was searching for. Reluctant, but at the same time embarrassingly eager, I found his hand in the shadows. His skin was warm and smooth, and he let out a breath of obvious relief, like he'd been in pain up until the moment we'd touched.

Our fingers slotted together like they were made to do so, something I'd sorely missed.

"Breathe," Stiles murmured in the dark, not doubt noticing my unnatural stillness, and though I was hesitant, I did as requested, inhaling gently. Stiles hummed, shuffling over so his front was pressed to my side. I stared up at the ceiling, unflinching as I focused on breathing in and out, unconsciously listening to the slowing of Stiles' heartbeat, until finally, he fell asleep with a light snore.

I hadn't been expecting to sleep at all, so I hadn't even realised I _had_ fallenasleep until I was sharply awoken by a furious banging on the bedroom door.

I jerked away, a hiss sitting on my lips as Stiles groaned from beside me. I looked over at the window, noting that it was just after dawn. There were more knocks at the door, and I grunted as I slipped from the warmth of the bed, padding my way over to the door and yanking it open, glaring grumpily at the werewolf on the other side.

"Jules?" Scott sounded shocked to see me standing before him, messy-haired and bare-footed, in the doorframe to Stiles' bedroom.

I reached out, swiping Scott's hand where it lay limp by his side, and jerking it up, getting a good look at the time on the watch sitting at his wrist. "5am," I sneered, dropping his arm and glaring at him dangerously. "Really, teen wolf?" I asked crabbily, reaching up to rub at my eyes, which felt thick after sleeping for so long.

"It's important," he insisted, leaning around me to look at Stiles, who was just now sitting upright, rubbing at his own eyes and stretching his arms over his head.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the human murmured around a yawn. He stood to his feet, watching as I stepped aside to let a still-bemused Scott through, shutting the door after him gently, so as to not wake the sleeping Sheriff at the end of the hall. "What's so important it couldn't wait until breakfast?" Stiles asked, his hair sticking up at every angle, eyes hooded and sleepy.

"I kind of came up with a plan," the alpha wolf told us, taking a seat at the desk chair and watching as I sat down on the edge of Stiles' bed, stretching my arms high above my head until my spine popped pleasantly.

"_You _came up with a plan?" Stiles asked skeptically.

"It's going to sound crazy," Scott told us warningly.

"I love it already," I drawled slyly, shuffling backwards until my back hit the wall, legs stretched out in front of my comfortably, the blue polish on my toenails glistening in the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window, the clouds having disappeared overnight.

Stiles sent me an annoyed look for my unnecessary comment, but I smirked back regardless.

"A plan to do what?" the human asked the werewolf while the vampire listened on with a smirk; which sounded like the beginning of a brilliant joke.

"To catch the Benefactor," Scott revealed, and Stiles' mouth dropped open.

"_Catch_ the _Benefactor_?" he repeated incredulously, as though he may have misheard.

"When someone on the dead pool gets killed, the Benefactor needs confirmation that the target is dead, right?"

"That's how it works, yes," I replied with as much patience as I could physically handle.

"Well, I think one of us needs to die," he said it so simply, like he wasn't suggesting the worst plan known to human-and-supernatural kind.

"Scott, do you hear yourself when you talk?" Stiles asked, taking a seat on the bed near my feet, hands folded in front of him, staring back at the wolf skeptically, like he was worried for his friend's mental health. I didn't blame him.

"Think about it," the alpha told us stubbornly. "If one of us dies, or at least, _appears_ to be dead, but nobody sends the Benefactor proof, the Benefactor will have to come see the body for himself – and then, we have him!"

Stiles shifted back, staring at the wolf thoughtfully before murmuring, "look, it's not a _bad _plan..."

"Except the part where one of us has to _die_?!" I interjected forcefully, beginning to grow anxious.

"But that's easy!" Scott argued. "We already have _you_!"

I blinked, surprised by the exclamation. "Me?" I repeated, confused.

"You don't have a heartbeat, you don't need to breathe, you're already ice cold," he listed, clearly having thought this through. "You can pretend to be a corpse for a few hours, right?"

"No," I shook my head, and both boys looked ready to argue, but I held up a hand, stopping them in their tracks. "It doesn't work like that. A dead vampire is different to a dead werewolf."

"How?" Scott sounded bemused.

"Oh God," Stiles groaned, suddenly looking ill. "You don't actually turn to _dust_, do you?"

I snorted, rolling my eyes at the kid affectionately. "We mummify," I informed them flatly, and both gave a grimace of distaste as they imagined what that might look like.

"Well, there goes that plan," the werewolf murmured, a defeated hunch to his broad shoulders, and a look of exhausted resignation on his face, no doubt believing we were back to square one.

An idea hit me, it was crazy, maybe crazier than any of the other ridiculous stunts we'd pulled over the last year, but the plan itself wasn't bad. It could, in theory, work. "Not necessarily," I said slowly, and the boys turned to look up at me, both wearing bewildered expressions.

"What're you thinking?" Stiles asked eagerly, clearly recognising the look on my face.

"It's going to sound mad," I said carefully, lips pursed as I considered my idea thoroughly. "I mean really, properly mad."

"You've gone British again," the human deadpanned, and I rolled my eyes before turning to Scott, my focus on him.

"How would you feel about slipping into a temporary, but still completely real, coma?"

The werewolf looked wary.

"There's a way to sort of, stop your heart, for lack of a better term," I revealed, voice quiet as I met his eyes, making sure he understood the severity of the plan I was suggesting. He was frowning, trying to understand what I was saying. "You're a werewolf, you can survive an hour without much of a pulse. You will be, for all intents and purposes, dead."

Stiles was gaping, trying to wrap his mind around my proposal, while Scott merely looked contemplative, frowning heavily as he considered my words. "What will we need?" the alpha asked suddenly, a look of resolute determination on his face.

"Well, I don't know how the whole plan itself will work out, but for the heart-stopping part? All we'll need is your shiny new girlfriend and her electric little fingers."

"Kira?"

"This is insane!" Stiles abruptly exploded, a look of anxious rage on his handsome face. "We're talking about _stopping _your _heart,_ Scott," he said slowly, as though his friend hadn't properly understood the first time. "And for what?"

"To find the Benefactor," Scott answered him flatly.

Stiles' outraged expression suddenly dropped, realisation of the severity of the situation trickling over him slowly but surely. "Right," he murmured, seeming to suddenly understand. "The Benefactor," he repeated, a frown marring his brow. "What a dick."

I laughed, one sharp bark of surprise, and even Scott cracked a wide smile, the air in the room suddenly not as thick with tension as it had been.

"I'll call Kira, see if it's doable," the werewolf told us lightly, pulling out his phone and heading from the room. "You two start making plans for what will happen while I'm out of it, we need a way to find and identify the Benefactor."

"And catch him?" I asked quickly, thinking he'd left that part out.

"No," Scott shook his head, leaning on the doorjamb as he spoke, phone held silent in his hand. "Whoever this guy is, he's powerful and probably criminally insane. We want to find out _who_ it is, and _then_ we'll work on stopping him."

I was disappointed, but I understood his logic, and nodded sullenly. The alpha shot us a final smile before holding his phone to his ear and disappearing from view. "Don't worry," Stiles said softly from my side, and I turned to look at him, eyebrow cocked expectantly. "We'll get him."

"And then?"

"And then?" he repeated, something of a satisfied sort of grin appearing on his lips, "...and _then,_ you can kill him."

* * *

The sound of metal touching the counter echoed through the otherwise silent room, and the heartbeats surrounding me were all racing, just inviting me to take a taste.

"Is three enough?" Kira asked anxiously, and I lifted my lukewarm cannister of blood to my lips, taking a deep, quenching sip.

"It depends on how many cameras they have, but I think so," Stiles answered her, and I shuffled back from where I was perched on the counter, watching the quartet closely.

"Are we really doing this?" Liam spoke up, his voice just as anxious as the fox's.

"Why is he here, again?" I asked snidely, my irritation evident. He was new to this world, and planning potentially life-threatening schemes to catch evil, supernatural, criminal masterminds wasn't something he actually had any experience in doing. To me, he was nothing but a liability.

"We need all the help we can get," Scott told me sternly, meeting my eyes from across the room. I scrunched up my nose but didn't argue, turning my face into the lip of my drink. "We're doing it," he assured Liam patiently. "Tonight."

"But isn't it kinda dangerous?" the pup asked warily, casting me a look over his shoulder that I blatantly ignored.

"Yeah, it's incredibly dangerous, and borderline idiotic," Stiles drawled, and I felt the urge to lift my drink in a toast.

"Have you guys done something like this before?" he questioned hesitantly.

"Something dangerous, or something idiotic?"

"Don't answer that," I commanded the pack with a huff, and Stiles exhaled, hanging his head as he probably reassessed how completely reckless this plan was.

"You don't have to be a part of it if you don't want to," Scott told his beta softly, and the kid's heart rate spiked with his anxiety.

"I'm not scared," he insisted, the lie so obvious he may as well have it written on his skin.

"Well then, you're borderline idiotic," Stiles smiled sardonically, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. This didn't seem to help the child's nerves. "If we do this, we don't know what's coming for us; you know that, right?"

Kira sucked in a breath, and everyone turned to look at her expectantly. "How do we even know something's definitely coming?" she asked meekly.

"Because the tape from Garrett's bag said visual confirmation was required," Scott explained.

"Simon said the same thing," Stiles added. "He couldn't get paid by the Benefactor until he had proof that you guys were dead."

"So the idea is: what if you kill someone on the dead pool, but you can't send the proof?"

"You don't get paid."

"How does that get us any closer to the Benefactor?" Liam asked quietly, anxiously tapping his fingers against the tabletop.

"He still needs to know if the target is really dead."

"Especially if it's someone high on the list," Stiles added, casting a glance over at his best friend, the concern in his eyes immense.

"So if he wants visual confirmation..."

"He's going to have to come and get it himself."

"There's another glaringly obvious flaw to this otherwise riddled-with-flaws plan, you know," I spoke up, crossing one leg casually over the other and holding my drink out as though it were a Long Island Iced Tea, instead of a metal cannister full of stale blood.

"Please, enlighten us," Stiles said flatly, but my focus was on Scott.

"We've gotta let your mom in on the plan," I told him, and suddenly, for the first time since coming up with this ridiculous excuse for a game plan, Scott actually looked scared. "We've gotta make sure her reaction is as loud and as obvious as possible for maximum impact, and the best way to do that would be to have her prepared."

"She's right," Stiles agreed without hesitation. "Besides, she'd literally kill you if you let her think you were _really _dead, even for an hour," he told Scott, who nodded slowly.

"She's at the grocery store," Scott said, a rare look of anxiety on his face. "I'll tell her when she gets home," he glanced at the clock, "which should be any moment." There was a pause. "Okay, you want to tell us how we're going to track the Benefactor?" he asked, clapping his hands together in a way that reminded me of a primary school teacher, making my lips twitch up into a smirk.

"So, I've talked to Argent, and wiring into the hospital's computer systems shouldn't be too difficult," Stiles said.

"You're a bloody genius," I told him sincerely.

His cheeks went a blotchy pink. "You're just saying that because you don't even know how to work a stereo," he said with a lightness, rolling his eyes at me teasingly. "Besides, I've got the Hunter's help." Nevertheless, I smiled widely, my blatant adoration for him shining through before I could quell it, and his cheeks went an even darker shade of red. "It'll let us monitor the security system, giving us eyes through the entire hospital. If he shows, we'll see him," Stiles continued once he'd cleared his throat and gotten ahold of himself.

Just as Scott had said, there was the sound of a key in the lock, and suddenly Melissa was letting herself in through the door in the kitchen. She had her head down, her arms laden with shopping bags, and when she finally looked up to see us all staring at her, she jumped.

"Scott," she said with a huff, watching as her son came to relieve her of the bags. "What's going on?" she asked, picking up on the tense mood instantly, smart enough to know we weren't here to watch movies and eat nachos.

"Mom, can I talk to you, for a minute?" Scott said carefully, and his mother's heart rate spiked with anxiety. Nodding, she cast us all another wary glance before following him from the room.

We were silent in the kitchen for a full minute, and I focused on the sound of Stiles' heartbeat in an effort not to eavesdrop on the mother and son in the other room.

"I have a question," Liam spoke up, and I looked up from where I'd been inhaling the scent of my lunch.

"Shocker," I deadpanned, and the kid sent me a bitch-face to rival Stiles'.

"Ignore her," Stiles said quickly, brushing over it with ease. "What is it?"

"Well, Scott was telling me how you become a vampire," he said, and instantly I was at attention, my spine straightened as I listened intently. "Or, what little he knew, anyway." We were silent, waiting for him to get to the point. "He said if someone dies with vampire blood in their system, they'll come back as a vampire."

"Wasn't there meant to be a question in there somewhere?" I asked icily, feeling self-conscious as the only undead one in the room.

"Well, why don't you feed Scott your blood?" he asked like this was the most simple answer to our dilemma in the entire fucking world. "Then there's no way he can die...at least, not totally."

"Doesn't work that way," I said shortly, taking a deep swig of blood, the taste comforting on my tongue.

"How does it work?" Liam countered in as tough of a voice as he could manage, and Kira's heart went haywire from across the room, looking between us anxiously, probably worried I'd retaliate to the attitude. Slightly insulting; I had _some _self-control, after all.

"Can't turn a werewolf into a vampire," I said in a surprisingly calm voice. "One or the other. Them's the rules."

Stiles shot me an odd look at the phrasing, and I shrugged back at him helplessly. "What about hybrids?" Liam questioned.

The question put me on edge, and out of instinct my eyes glinted red as I asked, "what do _you _know about hybrids?"

Liam had the decency to look slightly afraid. "Um...only what Scott's told me," he murmured carefully.

I took a deep breath, telling myself not to overreact. It was just that anyone who brought up Klaus made me wary – _anything_ about Klaus made me wary. "Hybrids can only be created by The Original Hybrid. They have to be turned by his blood, and they can only do so when the curse has been lifted and the doppelganger is dead," I explained with award-worthy patience.

Liam only looked more confused. "It's a long, long, _long _story," Stiles swooped in, and the kid looked relieved by the interjection. "To explain it in full, we're going to need a solid few hours and some flow charts," he added.

Liam nodded. "We can do it later," he said with wide eyes.

"Yeah," Stiles said, tossing me a look that made me smirk.

From the other room, Melissa and Scott were arguing. Not _really_ arguing, she was just begging him to find another way, and he was patiently insisting there wasn't one. I listened as she gradually came around to the idea, beginning to understand how necessary the whole thing was.

"Why aren't there more vampires in town?" Kira was the one to ask this time, and I shot her a flat look that made her pulse jump. "I mean, there are so many werewolves coming and going, but the only vampire is _you_," she elaborated nervously.

I pondered how to answer the question, noting that Stiles was giving me the side-eye, urging me not to react with the usual level of bitch.

"Vampires and don't tend to play well with others," I finally said, ankles hooked together, head tipped back against Melissa's kitchen cabinets.

"But you do," she argued confusedly.

Stiles snorted loudly. "Overstatement of the year," he said with something of a smirk. "Jules _tolerates_ others, and she doesn't 'play' with them very well at all."

"The vampire isn't a people person; surprise, surprise," I muttered, half bitter, half exasperated. I turned to Kira, not in the mood to dissect that any further. "Vampires are more the nomadic type," I continued to answer her question, tuning out Scott and his mother's discussion when I began to grow aware of it once more. "We like to steer clear of others, particularly if they're _werewolves_," I said with a faint grimace.

"I guess there are exceptions to every rule, then," Liam spoke up, and my narrowed eyes focused in on the pup, who was blinking back innocently.

"Indeed," I hummed, rather than sneer, taking another sip of blood and turning to face the hallway, quite clearly dismissing them. But, apparently, they didn't take hints very well.

"You're close friends with Scott," Kira said, probing further. I huffed, glancing back over at her with an agitated frown. "So _all_ vampires mustn't think _all_ werewolves are bad."

I lifted my shoulders in a vague shrug. "There's just as much racism in the supernatural world as there is in the human one," I responded dryly, growing disinterested in the conversation. "Not everyone feels the same way, but it's still there enough to be a problem."

Thankfully Melissa and Scott were returning, and we fell silent as they both re-entered the room, Scott looking pensive and his mother looked severely anxious. Someone else walked in behind them, and I blinked in surprise to see it was Kira's mother. I'd been so focused on my conversation that I hadn't noticed her arrive.

"Mom," Kira said, and the older kitsune moved over to her daughter's side.

Scott looked down at his watch, frowning to himself before looking up. "We need to do this _now_," he said gently, and everybody nodded, beginning to move around the room, going about their tasks.

"You coming in the Jeep with me?" Stiles asked me, gathering up his laptop and heading for the door, knowing he needed to get to the hospital and set up as soon as possible.

I hopped off the counter, opening my mouth to answer when Scott stopped me. "Actually, I'd like a minute with Jules," he said, and my eyebrows raised in surprise. Stiles paused for a moment, then nodded, coming to a stop by his best friends side. They exchanged a few quick words, a sort of 'man-farewell' that involved a lot of nods and a secret handshake. I didn't listen in, focusing instead on Melissa and Kira's mom (whose name I still hadn't learnt) as they murmured between one another quietly.

"Meet you by the Jeep," Stiles told me with a nod, and I nodded back, watching as took Melissa by the arm and began to lead her towards the door. She and her son had already had their words, but they exchanged a hug and a whispered farewell before the left.

"You guys can go up to my room," Scott told Kira, her mom and Liam. "I'll be up in a minute."

They looked curious and hesitant, but nodded before turning. The wolf and I both listened as their footsteps travelled up the stairs and into his bedroom. It was only then that Scott began to talk.

"I just wanted to say...if I die today..." he began, but immediately I held up a hand, and he stopped talking.

"You're going to be _fine, _Scott," I told him firmly, refusing to believe otherwise, and there was suddenly a fond smile on his lips, like something about my response had been endearing.

"You're not usually the optimistic one," he told me with a small grin.

"You usually _are_," I countered, and he chuckled.

We were silent for a second, and he seemed to be trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say next. "Do you think we can get into heaven?" he asked gently, and though I was thrown by the question, I kept my expression impassive, blinking back at him calmly.

"Why wouldn't we?" I asked when it was clear he wasn't going to continue.

"Well, we're not..." he seemed to be having trouble saying it.

"Human?"

"Right," he nodded, and I cracked what I hoped was a comforting smile.

To be honest, I was pretty damn sure there would be no ticket waiting at the Pearly Gates for myself, but Scott? I couldn't _imagine_ a God who wouldn't let this little ray of sunshine into heaven.

"I think that, _what_ we are? It doesn't matter," I told him, and he looked back up hopefully. "_Who _we are is the only part that's worth a damn."

Scott seemed relieved by my answer, and I had a feeling I'd finally done something right. I grinned, eased by his smile.

"Thanks, Jules," he said, turning towards the stairs before suddenly stopping, looking back at me. "You'll look after them, right?" he asked carefully. "If the worst _does _happen?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, _you_," he laughed like my response was in any way amusing. "You're my first Beta, after all," he smiled, and I blinked in shock. I didn't know what I could possibly say in response, so I merely stared as he grinned one more time before turning away and heading up the stairs.

I wandered out to the Jeep slowly, hopping into the backseat and pulling the door closed after me. "Finally," Stiles commented, putting the vehicle into gear and reversing out of the driveway. "Not like were on a time limit or anything," he added, but I didn't feel like I was in the mood to respond, so I just hummed non-committally, staring out the window, thinking about how, if someone had told me two years ago that this is where I'd be by now, I'd have laughed in their face.

Funny how quickly things can change.

* * *

"I hate seeing him like this," Stiles said, staring down at his best friend's 'corpse', his skin ashen and bloodless. He swallowed, and I knew it was hard for him. I didn't know what to do, so I tentatively reaching out a hand and grasped his, interweaving our fingers in a move that made my dead heart leap and holding on tightly.

Part of me was terrified he would push me off; all of me was relieved when he held me back like I was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

"I can hear his heart," I assured him gently, the other in the room silent as we all waited for Melissa's screaming in the next room to be over. It was so pained, but I knew she didn't have to work too hard on manufacturing the noise; her son really _was_ (technically) dead. "It's faint and rare, but it's beating," I said, pushing myself up a little to speak into his ear.

His thumb caressed the back of my hand, and although it was a bad idea, I still leant into him, gently resting my chin on his shoulder and grasping at his forearm with my free hand. The contact was warm and made my skin buzz. I focused on keeping my ears on Scott's waning heartbeat, reminding myself of the important task we had given ourselves.

The screaming had stopped, and finally Melissa pushed her way into the room, wiping the tears from her face, sniffling as she approached.

"I still hate this plan," she said in a still-shaky voice, staring down at her lifeless son. "I mean this is pretty significantly terrifying – he looks _dead._"

I wanted to say something comforting, but I wouldn't know where to begin, so I remained glued to Stiles, my awareness scanning the hall outside for anyone who didn't feel _right._

"Give me your hand," Noshiko (I'd learnt her name on the way over) said, and I watched as Melissa looked warily to Stiles, who brought his free hand up to brush her gently on the back.

"It's okay," he assured her, and she sniffled again as she did as instructed. Noshiko pressed the other mother's hand against her son's sternum, and Melissa whimpered at how cold to the touch he was.

We were silent, and I listened closely, until finally his heart gave one, solid beat, then fell silent once more. Melissa looked like she could collapse with relief. "Is that enough to keep a werewolf alive?" she asked, staring down at Scott with hope shining in her eyes.

"Enough for an alpha," the kitsune said with a small smile.

"How much time do we have?"

"Forty-five minutes."

"What happens after that?"

"I bring him back the same way," Kira said gently.

"No, I mean what happens if he stays like this longer than forty-five minutes?" Melissa asked, her voice low and serious, turning to glance at Stiles and I. The both of us remained pathetically silent. I didn't want to be the one to tell her the reality of the situation.

"No one's told her?" Noshiko asked tightly.

"What?" Melissa demanded, growing agitated. "What happens after forty-five minutes?"

Noshiko hesitated, then looked her in the eye and said, "he dies."

Melissa's heart gave a terrified stutter, but she kept her horror from her face. "Well," she began bracingly. "We'll just have to make sure we're on time, then, won't we?" she said, and we all nodded our heads, all of us thinking the same thing.

"I've got to go request payment with Argent," Stiles said abruptly, the time limit obviously weighing heavily on his mind too. "Will you be okay?" he asked Melissa, who managed a tight smile before nodding. "And you?" he turned to me, staring at me expectantly, and I blinked in surprise at the question.

"Of course I will," I assured him, bemused.

"I've heard that before," he murmured sourly, and I rolled my eyes. "Meet you at the rendezvous point?" he asked, glancing between all of us. He received curt nods in response. "Okay," Stiles nodded, looping his arm around my waist and pulling me in for a quick hug, holding me to him tightly before turning and leaving. I was left stunned by the action, and could do nothing but stare after him as he hurried away, off to complete his mission.

I looked around the room, taking in a still-shaking Melissa, a lost looking Kira and Liam, and the stoic seeming Noshiko. "Come on," I said bracingly, taking charge since I knew nobody else was going to. I was, after all, in Scott's words, his first beta, and therefore, next in the chain of command. "We can't stick around, we need to get out of here."

I waved the others out of the room, and Melissa took a moment to touch her son's slack face before turning and all but running from the morgue. Kira's mom went next, nodding at me respectfully, which was nice I supposed, then the two rascals. They headed out of the room, and I cast a final look at Scott.

"If you die, I'll kill you," I whispered to him in a fit of sentimentality. "You hear me, Teen Wolf?"

There wasn't so much as a twitch of his face to say he did, but it would have to be enough. With a sigh, I turned and left the morgue, heading straight for the room Melissa had signed out for us to use. It was small, with only one chair, and we had all the fancy computer equipment set out on the bed, waiting to be used.

Stiles still wasn't there, probably still in the basement with Argent.

Liam was reclined in the single chair, and without thought I reached down, grasping him by the collar and hauling him out of it. He let out a strangled yelp as I gently but firmly cast him aside, taking a seat in the chair myself.

"What the hell?!" he frowned at me, baffled by my casual, albeit rude, action.

"Not in the mood, Pup," I said stonily. The whole situation had me on edge – I was beginning to regret suggesting this stupid plan in the first place.

We were silent for thirty-three seconds (I counted the ticks of the clock) before Kira spoke up, never one for silences, comfortable or otherwise. "So, what's the deal with you and Stiles?" she asked, and Liam gave an irritated huff from across the room, clearly not in the mood to listen to girl-talk.

"Take a look around, Kira. Is now _really _the best time to be discussing my love life?" I asked dryly.

"I need a distraction," she admitted with a heavy sigh. She looked back up, curiosity in her dark eyes. "So, are you two back together?"

"No," I huffed with an irritated scowl that didn't seem to affect her for once.

"It sure looks like you are," she said, aiming for lighthearted.

"Looks can be deceiving," I deadpanned, but it didn't seem to affect her.

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you two are perfect for each other," she offered me gently, a look of determined braveness on her face, as though this had been something she'd been gearing herself up to say for awhile now, and despite my own anxiety and inner turmoil, I forced something of a smile onto my face that made her smile back in relief. Before she could say anything else, the door opened, and we all spun around to see Stiles stepping into the room, shutting it quietly behind himself.

"Is it done?" I asked softly as he moved over to us, taking the spot in front of the computers and leaning down to tap a few buttons before straightening again.

"With absolutely no dramatic flare," he muttered. "But yes."

I wasn't sure what that meant, so I opted to remain silent.

"Argent's up on the roof, hooking us in," he added just as his phone began to buzz in his pocket. He took it out, answering the call quietly.

"_I'm here_," Argent's low voice carried through the otherwise silent room, "_you ready_?"

"Yeah," Stiles murmured, staring at the computer screens, which I realised had all gone dark.

"_Try it now,_" he said, and Stiles hesitated only a beat before pressing a key on the centre computer, the screens flickered to life, images of the halls in the hospital appearing across them like magic. I blinked, honestly surprised it had worked.

Surprised, but endlessly relieved.

"We're in," Stiles told Argent, a note of relieved surprise to his own voice, and Argent gave a murmured reply before ending the call, but I wasn't paying attention.

I was itching to get out there, to hover near the morgue so I could be ready to jump on the Benefactor. I knew that wasn't the plan, and I knew it was a bad idea, but it didn't stop me from wanting to do it.

"This is a good plan," Stiles said to me quietly, as though the werewolf and kitsune in the room couldn't hear every word. "It'll work," he added, but even he couldn't mask the wavering doubt in his voice.

"How long do we have?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound as anxious as I felt, and he tapped his phone.

"Just under thirty minutes," he told me, and I nodded, glancing once more at the monitor letting us peek into the morgue. Scott was still, and for all the world, a corpse.

"Would you take a breath or something?" I hissed at Liam sharply, finding the wet, gluggy pumping of his heart to be severely distracting. "If your heart goes any faster you'll collapse."

"I wouldn't be so anxious if you guys didn't look so concerned," he argued defensively.

"Our best friend is laying, lifeless, on a slab in a morgue," I told him, my voice dripping with disdain. "Forgive us for being worried," I added venomously.

"I think we're all a little on edge," Stiles said slowly, shifting ever so slightly between the werewolf and I in an attempt to keep things civil.

"Is that supposed to look like that?" Liam asked, and all of our eyes snapped to where he was pointing, one of the many feeds on the computers going dead, replaced by black static before it went grey.

"No, it's not," Stiles sighed, staring at the dead feed gravely.

"Where is that?" Kira asked anxiously.

"It's the roof, someone's going to have to check it out," he said, and immediately I straightened up.

"I'll go," the kitsune said before I could volunteer myself.

"Whoa, this might not just be a malfunction," Stiles argued.

"He's right," I said, standing to my feet. "I'll go with you."

"I can look after myself," Kira said gently but firmly. I got the feeling she felt the need to prove herself, and I wasn't going to begrudge her the opportunity. "Besides, I'm bringing this," she added, holding up her katana, the deadly metal edge glinting in the low light.

She turned, rushing from the room. "Wait! I'm coming with you!" Liam exclaimed suddenly, leaping after her and disappearing out the door before either of us could argue.

"You're both coming rightback!" Stiles called after them as loudly as he dared. "_Immediately_!"

He received no reply.

"Ugh, _kids_," he murmured to himself with a shake of his head, and I sat back down in the chair, folding my hands under my chin and smirking to myself as I returned my gaze to the monitors. "It's strange, isn't it?" he said, his voice loud in the otherwise silent room.

"What is?" I asked, still scanning every camera, keeping tabs on anyone who looked even slightly out of place.

"Having to be the responsible ones," he answered quietly. Against my better judgement, I looked away from the monitors, glancing up at him. He was staring resolutely at the screens.

"I wonder if this is how Scott's always felt," I mused, and was beyond pleased when the human's lips twitched up into something of a smile.

I stood to my feet, stepping closer to him but mostly to get a better look at the monitors, my ears focused on the sounds outside.

"Jules," Stiles said, and I glanced over to see him frowning at me. "Do you think-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off when, without warning, the room went completely and utterly dark. Everything was silent for a few seconds, then the emergency lighting kicked in with a weak flicker. The screens had gone dark, and suddenly, our plan seemed doomed to failure.

"No," Stiles muttered angrily, reaching out and slamming his fingers down on the long, rectangular key over and over. Nothing changed. "Dammit!" he cursed, pulse spiking.

"What do we do?" I asked, at a loss.

I could go stakeout the morgue, but if I was caught by the Benefactor, who knew what would happen? I wasn't concerned about getting hurt, just about ruining our chances at catching the son of a bitch.

"Come on," Stiles said decisively. "Let's find the others."

He reached down, taking my hand and beginning to lead me out of the room and into the hall, where nurses and doctors were racing around like crazy, trying to restore order. Argent was just walking past us, and Stiles reached out a hand to stop him.

The Hunter spun around, gun in hand and aimed threateningly at Stiles' face.

Without hesitation I broke away from Stiles' hand, reaching up quicker than either human could process and grasping the barrel of the weapon and ripping it from his grasp with a warning hiss. I held the gun in a too-tight grip, only relaxing my hold when I felt the metal begin to crush under my fingers.

Argent held out his hands in surrender, silently assuring me it was an accident, and with a grimace of disdain, I handed the weapon back.

"Power's out in the whole building; I lost all the cameras," Stiles said once he was sure I wasn't about to do something stupid, like attack the Hunter.

"Stay with Scott, text me if you see or hear anything," Argent ordered, and Stiles nodded. "Juliet, you're with me."

"I'm not leaving Stiles," I argued instantly.

"There isn't time to debate it," he snapped back, glancing down at his watch. "We have eighteen minutes left," he said urgently. "Let's _go_."

I turned to Stiles, terror filling me. The last thing I wanted to do now was separate, but I knew Stiles was in far less danger by himself. _I_ was a target, while _he_ was under the Benefactor's radar. "Stay safe," I ordered him, reaching up briefly to run a finger across his beautiful jaw.

"You too," he said with a swallow. I wanted to kiss him, more so than I ever had in any other moment before, I wanted to kiss him.

"_Juliet_," Argent snapped, and I could do no more than turn and leave, even though my chest tightened unbearably with every step I took away from my human.

"What's the plan?" I asked the hunter as we strode away, taking a sharp left and heading down an unfamiliar hallway.

"Defend the innocent," he said blandly.

"What is this, a comic book?" I asked bitterly. He took a moment to shoot me his most irritated stare, which I definitely deserved.

"How about: don't get killed?" he said slowly, peeking around a corner with his gun held out in front of him.

"I like this plan," I nodded. "We've got to make our way up to the roof."

"Why?" he asked as a group of frantic nurses scurried past us, shooting Argent's gun distrustful looks.

"Kira and Liam went up there," I said, trying not to give away how concerned I felt about their safety. Showing hunters you actually had a heart wasn't recommended in the vampire-handbook. Weakness was all too readily exploited. The sent of blood was in the air, and though that wasn't unusual for a hospital, it still made my skin crawl and my stomach ache in hunger. "They never came back."

I glanced over my shoulder, scanning the hall behind us for a sign that told me where I could find the stairs. "Not going to be possible," Argent told me in a stony voice, and I spun around only to be met with a most unpleasant sight.

Kate Argent was standing before us, a stupid smirk on her stupid face. But the _really_ concerning part was the massive, towering Berserker standing behind her, it's skull-encased face tilted like that of an animal about to strike.

"You wanna take the Berserker?" Chris asked quietly as they stared at us, pulling a clip from his belt and slipping it into place in his weapon in an inconspicuous move.

"I'd rather take your psychotic bitch of a sister," I admitted honestly.

"Well, something tells me we aren't going to get what we want," he said just as, by some unspoken command, the Berserker began to charge, it's massive feet hitting the floor so hard, it made the whole level shake. And it was heading right for me.

"Fuck," I cursed, crouching down instinctively, preparing to pounce.

"Remember that thing I said?" Argent asked as Kate began to make her way towards us also, albeit as a much slower pace than her terrifying companion.

"Try not to die?" I yelled.

"That's the one," he agreed, before the deafening bang of his gun filled the room, and the Berserker was on top of me.

Fighting these things was nearly impossible. It was incredibly strong, not to mention big. My only advantage was speed; it was too bulky to move very fast. I slipped between it's legs, grasping at the back of it's knee and twisting. It collapsed halfway down, but managed to stay upright, whirling around to slam it's giant, spiked fist into my face.

The force slammed me against the wall, my body leaving a Jules-sized dent in the plaster. It hurt, but it hadn't broken anything, so I quickly leapt onto it's back.

Suddenly, I'd learned what the mask was for. It was large, encasing it's whole head, and no matter how good of a grip I got, I couldn't seem to snap it's thick, blood smeared neck.

It threw me off with laughable ease, tossing me ruthlessly into the wall again, an explosion of plaster thrown around me, travelling down my throat and making my eyes burn.

My shoulder was dislocated, and I remained still as the Berserker seemed to consider me neutralised, turning with a guttural growl and stomping away. I groaned, throwing my weight against the wall to snap my shoulder into place. I looked over at the spot where Chris and Kate had been standing, to see them gone, bullet casings littering the floor the only proof they'd been there at all.

Screams sounded from down the hall, and Argent's stupid moral code entered my mind.

_Defend the innocent._

Fucking hell.

I took off at a run, my legs heavy and my shoulder aching like a bitch. People screamed in horror as they laid eyes on the Berserker, and I knew this was bad for the whole 'secrecy' thing our kinds tried to keep going.

Sliding out into a hall, fear gripped me as I laid my own eyes on the Berserker, but the terror didn't really set in until I saw Noshiko and Melissa standing before it, staring up at it's blood-soaked skull mask with dread.

I acted on instinct, sliding around the thing, landing a useless punch to it's gut before it could notice me, then racing forwards and grabbing each mother on the arm.

"You can stare when it's dead!" I yelled at them, pushing them forwards and keeping my pace low so I wouldn't outrun them. They weren't fast at all, so very human, running as fast as their mortal little legs could carry them, but it was gaining on us, and fast. "Listen, we're not going to outrun it!" I told them over the screams of another group of nurses.

"We can't _fight _it!" Melissa yelled back.

"We don't have a choice!"

It was upon us, I could feel it's hot, decaying breath brushing the back of my neck, and with an agitated huff I spun around, stamping my feet and holding my ground. The thing didn't waste any time, it's massive hand slammed into my middle, it's boney claws slicing at my skin, and I felt my cold blood run down over my stomach.

It was just so _big_. I couldn't snap it's neck. I couldn't see any skin to bite. I couldn't find a _single weakness._

With an almost casual slap to my face, I was sent flying. I felt weightless for one glorious second, then I crashed into the wall. I felt the concussion hit me as my head cracked against a beam, and I was dazed, slipping helplessly to the floor.

There was scream, a loud, terrified scream, and I blinked as I painfully forced myself upright.

The Berserker was walking away. _Why _was it walking away? Shouldn't it still be killing us?

The alluring scent of blood pervaded the corridor, and without looking, I knew someone was hurt. All I could do was pray it wasn't Melissa, and as I turned, I was devastated to find I got my wish.

Noshiko was laying still on the floor, blood pouring from her ruptured stomach faster than Melissa could stop it. In the blink of an eye I was beside the old kitsune, hands hovering uselessly over her bleeding abdomen.

"Can you do anything?" Melissa asked, trying to apply pressure on the wound to try and stem the flow of blood. I looked up at her, confused. "Your blood has healing properties," she said as though this were obvious.

"She's a kitsune," I shook my head regretfully. "My blood would only poison her."

"Jules!" a new voice was yelling, and I turned to see Liam barrelling towards us, coming to a stop beside me with heavy breaths. "Oh, my God," he said, staring down at the blood in horror.

"Go get Kira," I ordered him without hesitation, knowing that if Noshiko wasn't going to pull through, she wouldn't be around for much longer. He didn't move. "_Now, _Liam!" I snarled, and with a startled blink he leapt to his feet and took off down the hall.

"I need a doctor!" Melissa was yelling, but the floor was empty and nobody seemed to hear. "I need to go call for help," she told me suddenly. "I need you to press your fingers to her wound like this."

"I can't," I said, panic filling me as I stared down at the pool of blood that was soaking through my pants, staining the skin underneath.

"You can, Jules," Melissa said, patient and calm. "Hurry, we don't have any time," she told me hurriedly. "This is the only way to save her."

Taking in a deep breath, then stopping breathing altogether, I shuffled into her vacated place, pressing my cold hands against Noshiko's wound. Her hot, irresistible blood spilled out over my hands, and my mouth began to water at the sensation. I bit down on my tongue with my fangs, and my own blood filled my mouth, the substance gluggy and unappealing.

"Keep applying pressure!" Melissa yelled to me before climbing unsteadily to her feet and racing down the hall in a panic, calling out for help.

From in my lap, Noshiko's head began to bob as she rapidly lost consciousness. "Stay awake, Fox," I ordered her sternly, and she blinked up at me confusedly, like she didn't understand why I was there.

A long minute passed; Noshiko breathing heavily, me, not at all.

Then Melissa and a Doctor were racing down the hall towards us, and I exhaled in relief, hunger scratching at my insides like a wild animal.

"Get her off the floor-" Melissa was saying.

"Hold the wound," I ordered her, and she immediately did as asked. Without care for the witness, I slid my arms under the gasping kitsune, lifting her as I stood to my feet. The doctor, a tall man with no hair and kind eyes, stared at me in bewilderment, shocked that someone my size seemed to have no trouble lifting a fully grown woman, but Melissa snapped him back to attention, and soon enough an orderly with a bed was heading towards us.

"Mom!" Kira's voice screamed from the end of the hall, and she sprinted towards us, terror making her heart race.

I pulled away from the injured kitsune, stepping back as the Doctors pushed Noshiko away, already beginning to work on her rapidly cooling body.

Scott was there, hugging his mom, which was a huge relief, but all I could do was stare down at my bloody hands, telling myself over and over that licking them wasn't a good idea.

Noshiko may have been a kitsune still, but she was more human than fox these days, and the scent of her blood confirmed it. It was thick and rich, and my mouth continued to water as my mind and body cried for just _one little _taste; what harm could it do?

"Jules."

I looked up to see Stiles looking at me, and I blinked, breaking from my stupor. He stepped into me with all the ease of somebody coming home. He threaded his arms around my body and pulled me to him.

"Stiles, the blood-" I tried to say.

"I don't care," he mumbled into my hair, one hand pressed lovingly to the back of my head, holding me against him. Unable to help myself, and despite my skin soaked with blood, I wrapped myself around him, clutching at his back and inhaling his comforting scent. "Out of curiosity, is any of it yours?" he asked, still holding me close, his hands rubbing up and down my back.

Despite everything, despite all of the horrible, _horrible_ things that had happened on this night, I still managed a laugh, tucking my head into his neck and revelling in feeling at home.

* * *

**A/N: I've begun work on the original season, and you guys are either going to love it or hate it. I know a lot of you are eager to see more of the Originals; are there any other appearances you want to see? Anything you want to happen? What are you expecting/hoping for? Now is the time to get your suggestions in!**

**You're all going to LOVE the next chapter, trust me, I think you'll all be very...satisfied ;)**

**Let me know your thoughts, I love every single one of you, and your reviews mean the absolute world to me!**


	75. Time-Bomb

_From the get-go, I knew this was hard to hold_

_Like a crash, the whole thing spun out of control_

_Oh, on a wire, we were dancing_

_Two kids, no consequences_

_Pull the trigger without thinking_

_There's only one way down this road_

_It was like a time bomb set into motion_

_We knew that we were destined to explode_

_And if I had to pull you out of the wreckage_

_You know I'm never gonna let you go_

_We're like a time bomb, gonna lose it_

_Let's diffuse it_

_Baby, we're like a time bomb, but I need it_

_Wouldn't have it any other way_

_Well, there's no way out of this, so let's stay in_

_Every storm that comes also comes to an end_

_Oh, resistance is useless_

_Just two kids stupid and fearless_

_Like a bullet shooting the lovesick_

_There's only one way down this road_

Time-Bomb – All Time Low

* * *

I went home with Stiles.

There hadn't been a conversation about it, I'd just gotten into his car, and he'd driven us back to his house in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts.

The plan hadn't paid off. Nobody had come for the 'body', and we were no closer to knowing who the Benefactor was than we had been that morning. It wasn't Kate, unfortunately – Chris had made sure I knew that.

John was at work (now at the hospital to deal with the shit-storm we'd left behind, no doubt) so the house should have been empty when we arrived. But I knew the moment he cut the engine that somebody was inside.

"Someone's here," I whispered to him sharply, and he froze.

"Who?" he asked thickly.

I paused, taking in the familiar rhythm of the heartbeat on the second floor. "It's Malia," I told him, and he immediately relaxed.

"Oh, thank God," he exhaled, snapping off his seatbelt and climbing from the car, already fishing his keys from his pocket. I followed quickly, making sure none of the neighbours had any time to notice the rapidly-drying blood I was currently soaked in.

We climbed the stairs in a hurry, and although I was tired and in pain, I wanted to see Malia. I was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. The girl had just found out she was, not only adopted, but a _Hale. _

It must have been more than a little bit traumatising. I knew if I'd found out I was related to Peter, I'd want to throw myself off a building and into a raging pit of fire.

I let Stiles speak first, leaning in the doorway and watching her closely. She didn't look up at us, staring down at the list that was laid on the desk before her.

"Hey," Stiles murmured tentatively.

"Why're you covered in blood?" Malia asked me, rather than answering him.

"There was a fight," I told her simply.

"Anyone dead?" she asked flatly, giving me the impression she would be awfully apathetic no matter the answer.

I looked over at Stiles to see him already looking at me. We shared a wary look, then turned back to the were-coyote. "Not technically," he answered her, and though this must have been confusing, she nodded like it somehow made sense. "Where've you been?" he asked, keeping his voice light.

"Talking to Peter," she revealed without looking up.

"Okay," he nodded. "I think that's a good idea."

"If he can help me find my mother, I don't think I care," Malia said emotionlessly.

Stiles paused, then stepped closer. "You know, you might related to him, but you're not like him," he promised her.

"Maybe I am," she countered without flinching. She stood, casting us both a cursory glance before wandering over to the evidence board in the middle of the room. "That night I caused the car crash?"

"You mean when you were out of control?" he asked quietly. "On the full moon?"

"There's a part I didn't tell you about," she continued without acknowledging that he'd spoken. "Right before we got in the car, my mother..." she paused, a glint of pain appearing in her eyes, "...my _adoptive _mother, I guess...we got into a huge fight. I don't even remember what it was about, but – I remember what I said." Tears gathered in her eyes, and I cringed, my own eyes falling to the floor.

"Malia..." Stiles tried to say.

"I said 'I wish you were all dead'," she told us hollowly, the pain in her voice made my stomach clench.

"Killing doesn't run in the family," Stiles told her gently.

"Maybe it does in mine," she responded, pinning the list to the board before turning to leave.

I didn't want to speak up, didn't want to say what I knew had to be said. It was something I hadn't even told Stiles, something I hadn't spoken about, hadn't _thought _about, in decades.

"I killed my own father."

Everybody in the room froze, the only sound their pumping hearts – they even stopped breathing.

"And it wasn't an accident, I didn't 'lose control'," I said, my eyes on a smudge on the ceiling, as though it were more interesting than the conversation we were having. "I stalked him, I haunted him, I made him too terrified to leave his own house; and then, just when he thought he was finally safe, I sank my teeth into his jugular and I drank his blood until his veins ran dry."

My statement was met with complete silence, and I finally looked away from the wall to see each of them staring at me, their expressions indescribable.

"My point is, we've all done things we regret. Some things you can repent for; others, we carry with us for centuries. _Own_ it, _live_ with it, and maybe one day, you'll wake up and realise it doesn't completely define who you are."

Malia didn't say anything, but the tears in her eyes were unmistakeable. She swallowed thickly, then turned and walked past me, down the stairs, and out the front door.

Stiles and I were silent for a long minute, and then I moved over to his dresser, fishing out some shorts and an old shirt before stepping around him and heading into his bathroom without a word. He didn't call out after me.

The shower was glorious, the water hot on my cold skin, washing away all the blood coating me. It dripped off, around the drain a tornado of pink, before it disappeared from sight. I only looked up when the water had finally run clear.

Stiles soap smelled like peppermint, and I supposed that was where his minty scent came from. I didn't wash my hair, but I did get it wet, the raven strands heavy against my neck.

I stepped out of the shower once the temperature of the water began to drop, drying off and changing into Stiles' clothes before I could talk myself out of it. Immediately I was surrounded by his scent, and I unashamedly lifted the collar, breathing it in for a long moment before schooling my features and finally moving out of the bathroom.

Stiles was sitting on the end of his bed, staring at the ground with his hands clasped under his chin. He stood when I entered, wordlessly stepping around me and heading for the bathroom himself. I didn't move, standing in the middle of the room, too afraid to disturb any of his things even as I listened to the sound of the shower start through the wall.

I realised I was being ridiculous, he'd only be irritated if he walked back in and I hadn't moved an inch, so I wandered over to his evidence board, trailing my fingers over the red tape covering it, holding up pictures of corpses, and murder scenes still caked in blood.

I wished Stiles hadn't been through all of that, wished he hadn't seen all the horrors he had seen. But there was nothing I could do to erase it, except compelling the memories away – but that would mean compelling myself away, and I knew I wasn't strong enough to do that.

I was so lost in thought that I didn't even hear Stiles come back into the room. It wasn't until he spoke that I realised he was there at all.

"You killed your own dad, huh?"

I didn't flinch, but I did freeze, my fingertips hovering over the big question mark in the centre of the board, beneath it, 'THE BENEFACTOR' written plain as day. Turning, I had a rush of courage, and I met his eyes, not sure what I'd find.

It wasn't disgust, or anger, that I was met with, but instead a deep confusion, like there was something about my confession that he didn't understand. I'd thought it was pretty straightforward, myself, but I wasn't surprised he had questions.

"If it makes a difference, he wasn't much of one," I muttered, running a hand through my damp hair. "Didn't think I'd mention the that part to Malia, thought it would be counterproductive to the point I was trying to make."

Stiles was silent, tugging at the cuffs of the old, worn flannel he was wearing. "What'd he do?" he asked, voice gentle but cautious, like he almost wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

I lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "Nothing awful," I said, turning away. "He was the same as any father in the 1820's. Commanding, rude, opinionated, scary. My sister married at a good age, but I was much too old to still be unattached, or so he liked to say," I murmured, staring at the board, but not really seeing it. "It was getting to the point where he was talking about selling me off."

"That can't have been legal!" Stiles cried vehemently, and despite it all, I cracked a tiny smile at his innocence.

"It wasn't, but when has that ever stopped anyone from doing anything?"

"What happened?"

I hesitated, then continued on. "I was turned by Klaus," I answered, turning back to face him, noting that he had, at some point, wandered closer, now standing less than a foot in front of me. "You know the rest."

"Not everything," he argued gently, and I cocked my head curiously. "Why did you kill him?"

I smiled again, this time ruefully. "Why does someone without humanity do anything?" I mused quietly. He didn't seem to have an answer, so I supplied one for him. "In the hidden hope that it might make us feel something again," I whispered, and he winced like the statement had caused him pain.

Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Come on," I said, tentatively reaching out and curling my hand around his shoulder. "Enough doom and gloom. You need sleep."

"So do you," he countered instantly, hand snapping up to cover my own, the touch of his skin on mine sending heat along my spine. "Will you stay? Again?"

I smiled, but it was weak at best. "Always," I answered him, because what else was there to say?

Squeezing his shoulder once more, I detached our clasped hand and turned, heading for the bed. Like lightening, Stiles reached out and grasped my forearm, turning me back to him. I could have stopped him if I'd wanted to, but I didn't know what he wanted, so I allowed him to move me, moving with him fluidly, instead of turning to stone as my instincts urged.

I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, but before I could form the words, he was swooping in, catching my lips with his own, and all thought evaporated from my brain, filled only with the electric touch of him.

The kiss was quick and chaste, and he was pulling back before I even really had a chance to process it or respond. I hadn't shut my eyes, but he had, and when he opened them, he stared back at me with an emotion in his eyes that I couldn't quite name.

Well, I _could_, but I didn't want to be throwing around words like _that_ if they would only serve to get my hopes up and hurt me later.

He swallowed, adams apple dipping, and for once I didn't follow the movement, staring back into his caramel eyes, chest clenched at the way they seemed to nearly glow in the soft light of his desk lamp.

"Is this okay?" he asked, but there was no hesitance in the question, the words were merely an afterthought, something to fill the pause between heartbeats. My eyes stung, and I clenched my teeth together against the wave of emotion that crashed through me.

I reached up, gently brushing my fingertips along his high, pale cheekbones, feeling the warmth of his skin seep through mine and heat my very bones. "Of course it's _okay_," I whispered, like anything louder would break the spell. "But I don't know if it's _wise_."

"_Screw_ 'wise'," he said so vehemently that it made me pause, looking up from where I was tracing the constellations of his moles, which travelled from the apple of his cheek down to the sensitive spot beneath his ear. He shivered when my fingers brushed the one hidden at his hairline.

"What do you want, Stiles?" I asked, my voice so terrifyingly vulnerable that it made me want to scream. He stared down at me, reaching a hand up to run it down the side of my head, along a lock of inky hair, touching me like I were something delicate and fragile, when we both knew I was anything but.

"What do I want?" he echoed quietly, his voice losing volume but gaining passion, but then not giving me an answer, the question hanging between us like a fog.

He closed his eyes tightly and leant in to rest his forehead against mine as though he couldn't bare to not be touching me. I shut my eyes soon after, basking in his presence, both of my hands cupping his face, my thumbs brushing his soft, tearable skin.

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I had to tell him the truth. "I'm no good, Stiles," I whispered brokenly, refusing to open my eyes, too terrified of what I might find if I did. "I'm a time bomb. You deserve more than that." I bit the inside of my cheek, my eyes stinging behind closed lids.

"I don't care what you think I deserve," he said passionately, with such intensity in his voice that I had to open my eyes, just to catch a glimpse of the spark in his. "I only care about what I want," he told me fiercely, "and all I want is _you._" I was thrown back to our first kiss, right here in this very room, the first time he told me he wanted me. It seemed we were doomed to repeat history.

I found I couldn't have cared less.

I wasn't sure who moved first, it could have been either of us, but suddenly we were kissing again, and this time it wasn't chaste at all. His fingers buried themselves in my hair, cupping my head in his large, lovely hands and pressing me to him. All I could do was hold on to him, winding my arms around his strong neck, pulling myself up onto my toes to get a better angle.

The kiss was full of everything we didn't know how to say. It was languid and slow, like we had all the time in the world. We were like magnets, unable to part for long before being drawn back into one another.

Gently, caressing me as he moved, his hands slid down over my shoulders to clutch at my waist in a possessive move that took my breath away. He hesitated there for a long minute, enjoying holding me close, before his hands slid down over my hips to my thighs, where he gripped me and lifted me up onto him in a move of surprising strength.

Suddenly I was taller than him, head tilted down to meet his, my inky hair like a barrier around us, sealing us off from the rest of the world. My hands were acting of their own accord, like I had muscle memory from all the times Stiles and I had been together before, my fingernails raking through his glorious hair, and he gave an appreciative moan, his grip digging gloriously into my thighs.

I rolled my hips into him, and he gave a startled groan as he lost his balance, stepping forwards and slamming my back into the evidence board, which creaked under the sudden hit.

I couldn't help but laugh, the kiss becoming useless with my smile, and even Stiles chuckled against me, before diving back in for another kiss, like a thirsty man submerging himself in water after a year in the desert.

I leaned into him, forcing him to take unsteady steps backwards, but I knew that to be where the bed lay, and with a final little push he fell back, breaking away with a grunt as his back hit the mattress.

I landed on my knees over his hips, and he could only stare up at me in the low light, his pupils blown with lust, a dazed sort of look to his eyes. I leant over him, pressing my face into his neck and inhaling. He seemed to know what I was doing, reaching up a hand to comb gently at my hair.

"I missed you," he murmured into the quiet, his thudding heart loud in my ears. "I missed you so much it nearly killed me," he swore, tone thick with emotion. I reached to the hem of his shirt, pulling him up enough that I could yank it over his head, tossing it heedlessly over my shoulder.

Immediately I placed a kiss on his chest, directly over where his heart was racing like it was going to give out. I knew it wouldn't, it was far too strong for that.

I slid down, showing him how I felt as I ran my tongue down to his bellybutton, then took the time to nip lovingly at his sharp hipbones. He moaned, and in a heartbeat I was hovering over his face once more.

"I missed you, Stiles," I told him breathlessly, feeling like he had stolen the air from my very lungs. "I still do," I said gently, leaning into his ear and taking a moment to nibble at the lobe, making him groan. "I'll stay," I promised blindly, and suddenly he was tugging impatiently at the hem of my shirt.

Sitting up, I settled over his throbbing crotch, making him groan loudly with need. I hastily yanked his borrowed shirt up and over my head, revealing absolutely nothing underneath. Stiles groaned again, keening as he ground into me. I tossed the cloth over my shoulder, the moved down so we were pressed together, foot to head. I pressed into him again, lost in the smell of him, and the heat that moved between us like it was a conscious thing, flames of passion licking at my bare skin.

Our lips connected once more, and I slid against him in the best possible way. He seemed to nearly whimper into my mouth as I rocked my hips into his, and I swallowed the sound eagerly, nipping at his plump lower lip.

I needed more of his skin, and I reached down, blindly tugging at his belt and ripping it off with enough force to make him jump. The pants were a little more complicated to get off, but my enhanced speed made quick work of them, and soon I was settling over him again. He was pressed into me through the thin material of his boxers, and he gave a breathless gasp as I rocked in that delicious way I knew he loved. I smirked proudly against his lips at the beautiful sound.

"Shut up," he huffed into me, and I was swelling with emotion, enough so that a hysterical sort of giggle broke through the haze of lust. Stiles grinned, and I pulled back with another laugh to meet his eyes, but suddenly he was palming my breast in his large, strong hands. Eyes slipping shut at the sensation, I ducked back in to press my lips to his, unable to bear the lack of contact.

We kissed with fervour, all passion and fire, no hint of an end in sight; which was just fine by me.

I grew impatient, lust rearing it's head in my gut. It was difficult to seperate it from the usual physical hunger, the thirst for blood that I felt every minute of every day. But it was Stiles, and as I inhaled his scent, I focused on the warm swell of emotion he evoked within me, and it was easier to focus on my love rather than my hunger. Still, I kept my teeth away from his neck – just to be safe.

"Jules," Stiles panted in my ear, and I smirked at the sound, the way his voice was absolutely wrecked, begging me for the relief only I could give him.

I pushed him back firmly, and he collapsed against his covers, watching in rapture as I quickly yanked off my borrowed pants, leaving me bare. Stiles sucked in a sharp breath, the sound loud in the quiet room, though I could barely hear it myself over his racing pulse. Settling over him again, I sighed into his chest, running my tongue across the ridges of his sternum.

"Jules," Stiles said again, pleading with me. I ached for him, the need to have him in me too powerful to bother playing any more games. With a tug I removed his boxers, leaning back up to kiss him as I gripped his shaft tightly. He whimpered, and I swallowed the sound eagerly, taking my time in thoroughly kissing him before I once again settled over him, wet and ready.

I moaned when he first pressed inside, and I felt my insides clench around him. I pulled back to see his eyes screwed shut in concentration, his adams apple dipping as he swallowed a moan.

"Stiles," I said his name like a prayer, sinking down onto him and exhaling with relief. I felt full in my entire body, my very veins filled with the feeling of him.

"Jules," he murmured, eyes still shut tightly as I rocked on him. "Jules I won't last-" he tried to say, and I bent down so my clit rubbed against his pelvis, an added benefit as I kissed him. It got him to shut up, and I rocked harder, my fingers tangled in his wonderful hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp, making him groan.

His hands gripped my hips like they were anchoring him to the earth, and I lifted myself up, dropping down sharply enough to make him jolt. I absorbed every sound he made, every twitch in his expression. My own pleasure wasn't even that high up on my list of priorities. More than anything I just wanted to lose myself in him like I never had before. Then his hand drifted down between us, and I hissed when his fingers came in contact with my clit.

I tried to focus on kissing him, but it was really more of a clash of mouths than anything else, and I moaned into him as we moved. It was building low in my body, as it always did, and I pushed myself harder and faster, trying to get there before him.

In the end, our ends seemed to coincide, and I finished with a satisfied gasp, the pleasure sparking along each of my nerves, my toes curling from the sheer force of it. Stiles must have felt me clench around him, and it pushed him over the edge, coming with a groan of my name that was music to my ears.

Then things were silent, and I was relaxed, my body and my hunger sated, though for once, not by blood.

Stiles' heart had been racing for the last half hour, but now it was finally beginning to slow. He peppered kisses across my bare collarbone, nuzzling into my chilled skin as though he couldn't get enough of it.

I understood the feeling.

I slipped off of him with a hiss, burrowing into his side as he lazily tugged his covers over us. I liked it, made me feel closer to him as we burrowed under them together like we belonged there.

"I've always loved the way you smell," he breathed into my neck honestly, inhaling my scent as I so often did to him. My fingertips scraped over his scalp and made him shudder, and I smiled at the feeling, brushing my nose over his hairline.

"Is that so?" I murmured playfully.

"If Amortentia was real, all I would smell is leather and spice; a dusty kind of smell, like an old library; and the somehow alluring, grungy scent of cigarettes."

Bemused, I grinned, revelling in the feeling of his fingertips running gently over the silky skin at my waist. "I don't know what Amortentia is," I murmured and he gave a huffing sort of laugh, exhaling his warm breath on my collarbone, making my skin prickle pleasantly. "But I feel like that was a compliment."

"It most definitely was," he promised, lips brushing my skin as he spoke, and I sighed with pleasure. "I feel like we should be talking about things," he mumbled reluctantly, and I groaned, taking action as I pushed him off of me only to shove him back onto the mattress. Throwing one leg over his waist, I settled over him, laying down over him, my hair like an ebony curtain, shielding us from the rest of the world once again. My own breath washed over his lips, and I shifted my hips, and despite being spent, he still gave a little groan and twitch of interest.

"Do you really want to spend our time _talking_?" I asked cheekily, shifting again and allowing my lips to drag softly over his. He exhaled shakily, pushing his head up to capture my lips in a soft but hungry kiss. I leant into the embrace, my breasts pressed enticingly against his chest, but he unexpectedly broke away with another groan, though this was one of reluctance rather than pleasure.

"No, we _need _to talk," he insisted grumpily, as though he hated himself for saying the words.

In a last-ditch effort, I pouted at him, blinking my wide green eyes at him hopefully, and he grunted, scowling unhappily as he gently pushed me until I fell beside him. Sighing in defeat, I propped my head in my hand, staring at him as he breathed deeply to gain control of his lust and focus on the conversation he clearly so desperately needed to have.

"What do you want to talk about, then?" I pressed, slyly letting my toes drag up and down his shin, free hand moving out to trace my fingertips over his smooth, bare chest. He swallowed loudly, but his gaze remained firm.

"Jules," he began, seeming to puff up as though expecting a hit. "I need you to promise me you won't leave again."

It wasn't really what I'd been expecting, but at the same time, it should have been. I understood how my previous actions might have made him apprehensive or insecure, and I felt a wave of guilt at my past-self for being such an inconsiderate dick.

I couldn't promise not to hurt him ever again, because, let's face it, I was the bitch to rule all screw-ups, but he wasn't asking me for the impossible. He was simply asking me to swear that I wouldn't ever abandon him again, that I would never run away with my tail between my legs like some kind of scolded, ashamed mutt.

"Stiles, I don't think it would be _physically possible_ for me to leave you ever again," I murmured to him, the sincerity in my tone overflowing. Stiles was quiet, and I knew this was my window, my opportunity to say everything that so desperately needed to be said. I shuffled closer, my skin just itching to be pressed against his, his warmth like a balm to my buzzing nerves. "I know I'm not any good at showing it, but I _love you_, Stiles," I told him in a whisper, dropping my eyes to his freckled collarbone, our connected gaze far too intense for me to handle in that moment.

His heart, which had begun to slow, suddenly kicked off again with all the power of an engine, beating fiercely from within his chest. I didn't glance up to see if he was looking at me, instead reaching out and focusing on drawing meaningless patterns into the warm skin of his chest.

"It's like you're written into my DNA," I told him quietly, biting into the flesh of my cheeks as I attempted to stave off getting overcome with emotion. "Vampires are frozen in time, you see," I said, gently dragging my nails over his chest and watching with satisfaction as goosebumps appeared in my fingers' wake. "Once something comes along and hits us without enough force to make a change...that change is forever."

Stiles swallowed, the sound loud in the quiet room.

"I'm sorry that I'm not very good at loving you," I whispered hoarsely, my brow beginning to ache from how deeply it was furrowed. "But I promise – I _vow_ – that I will never stop trying to be better, and that I will never, _ever_ stop feeling the way that I do about you. You're everything to me, and you always will be."

The human was perfectly silent, slowing processing my heartfelt declaration. I was sure that if I could have blushed, my face would've been bright red.

"That – uh, that's good, then," Stiles said stiltedly, and I looked away from where I was tracing a small scar on his shoulder to meet his gaze, noting with pleasure that his cheeks were a blotchy pink, and his eyes were alight with emotion.

"Don't clam up on me now, Romeo," I told him slyly, shuffling impossibly closer and gently dragging my lips down the barely-there stubble along his jaw. "Usually _I'm_ the emotionally constipated one in this relationship. Not sure there's room for two."

He rolled his eyes, and I beamed back innocently, fluttering my eyelashes at him for effect.

"Is that was this is, then?" he asked suddenly. Confused, I cocked my head and waited for him to explain. "A relationship," he elaborated, seeming to lose confidence. "Are we...back together?"

"Do you want to be?" I knew answering his question with a question was ridiculous, but he didn't call me out on it.

He was quiet for a long moment, which made my insides freeze to ice. My breath was stolen from my lungs, and I tensed, ever so slightly shifting away from him, so our skin wasn't pressed against one another.

His arm caught me around the middle, pulling me back into him stubbornly. "I love you, Jules," he told me with a racing heart, eyeing me vulnerably, as though my own risky confession hadn't been enough to assure him where I was at. "That won't ever change. Of _course_ I want to be with you."

I allowed myself to remain pressed against him, but my fingers had stopped their playful dance across his bare chest. "Then why the hesitation?" I asked softly, my voice as weak as my quivering insides.

Stiles was quiet again, for once mulling his thoughts over before letting them leave his lips. "You know how you distanced yourself to protect me?" he murmured tentatively. I nodded, and he felt the motion on his skin. "I guess it works both ways."

"But _you're_ not dangerous," I said immediately, sitting back up, half leaned over him so I could look into his face and gauge his expression.

"Neither are you," he countered without missing a beat.

Growing irritated, I let go of the constant focus it took to keep my true face hidden. In an instant black, decaying veins were crawling over my cheeks like they were part of some kind of grotesque dance, and my gums prickled as fangs slipped into view, protruding from my mouth monstrously.

Stiles' heart stuttered, but his expression gave no twitch to indicate his fear, which I was grateful for.

"I get it," he murmured with an eye roll that seemed too forced to be natural. "You're a big, bad, scary vampire," he listed with great exasperation, and with a pout I made my fangs disappear back up into my mouth and the rotten blood melted from my eyes, leaving them once more a deceiving, shimmering green. "You'd never hurt me," he said once he was sure my theatrics were over, sounding assured and trusting until the end, "but _I_ might hurt _you_."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said without thought, leaning closer so I could get a good look in his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually quite difficult to injure." Stiles was quiet, and bewildered, I could do nothing but watch him, trying to decode the glint to his eyes. Would 'haunted' be an appropriate descriptor? "What are you afraid of, love?" I asked in my softest voice, raising a hand from his chest and cupping the side of his face, my long, cold fingers caressing his slightly stubbly jaw.

His eyes scanned me, and though all the good parts were covered by his cream coloured bedsheets, he still looked at me with the same rapture he had just minutes before.

"It's my fault you went dark side," he finally blurted, meeting my gaze, an echo of remorse in his maple eyes. "What if that happens again?"

Considering this, I dragged my thumb over his cupid's bow, entranced by the way the supple skin gave way under my touch, his lips parting as he sucked in a breath at the tenderness of the gesture. I felt guilty that he was feeling guilty, and though my old habits dictated that I should fall into the sea of shared guilt and let it eat us both up inside – I was done with that behaviour. I owed it to Stiles, I owed it to _myself_, to be better. I had to break the cycle.

Leaning in, I pressed my lips against his, deftly catching his plump bottom lip between both of mine and kissing him chastely but lovingly. It was different to our other kisses that evening, instead it was filled with the sort of promise that couldn't be said with words.

"Stiles," I began once I pulled away, noting with satisfaction that he seemed breathless after the simple action. "I can't guarantee I'll never switch off again – that's the curse of vampirism, the threat of losing control will always hang over me like the blade of a guillotine." His heart hammered, but his expression was scrunched in confusion at my calm demeanour. "But whatever happens, we're going to get through it together," I swore, and he attempted a smile. "It's going to be okay," I vowed quietly, even though I knew I had no right to do so, and he swooped in for another kiss, making my stomach tie itself into knots. My own coils of anxiety began to lessen, and my brain was filled with nothing but the feeling of him.

* * *

**A/N: Hoping you liked this one, guys, I actually really struggled with it. If any of you like the show 'The 100', I've got a pretty rad Bellamy/OC story up at the moment that I'm currently updating every few days. I strongly encourage you to check it out. **

**Anyway, please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, your reviews mean the absolute world to me! Love you xo**


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